


No Reason to Hide

by herdingcatsphilosopher



Category: Outlander, Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Outlander - Freeform, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2019-09-14 17:42:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herdingcatsphilosopher/pseuds/herdingcatsphilosopher
Summary: "Franklin Wolverton Randall and Sandra Josephine Travers invite you to their wedding..."The best way to get even with an ex is to show up on his wedding day with your own fiancé, right? Especially if the man in question is taller, younger, more handsome than said ex. At least that's what Claire's original plan was.Except, she didn't have said replacement on hand, real or otherwise.Jamie wasn't looking for love. He was in fact, openly shunning the dating scene in Edinburgh. regardless of his friend's prodding.A chance encounter results in a really embarrassing situation and Jamie is forced to make up for his blunder by offering himself up as Claire's date.





	1. It's What Husbands Do

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [scotsmanandsassenach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scotsmanandsassenach/pseuds/scotsmanandsassenach) in the [Outlander_holiday_prompt_exchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Outlander_holiday_prompt_exchange) collection. 



> To scotsmanandsassenach, thank you for the wonderful prompt that I just HAD to finish LOL. After all, fake relationships are such great tropes, right? ;-)

engineerjammf: brat pack gud & ready 2 go. repeat, not a gud idea but pray 4 me?

cbwetblanket: U can do it! 😍 L8er. Luv U!

 

“This is a PG-15 story. Sure you're all ready for it?” Jamie asked the four teenagers of varying ages who were watching him with anticipation and amusement.

“You know Ian's only twelve,” 17-year old William said.

“And Brianna's fourteen,” added Faith.

“I'll be fifteen next month shrimp,” Brianna replied with dignity. “Besides, the way you act, sticking out your tongue in pictures, you might as well be ten.”

“I may be twelve, Will, but I'm almost as tall as Faith, for all she's sixteen,” Ian said. “And Mam said I could join you in everything. Just clap your hands over my ears so I won't hear the er, smutty bits.”

His older cousins all laughed and jeered at him good-naturedly.

Will said, “In that case, why not stay out in the hallway the rest of the afternoon? I've heard parts of how they met, over the years. The whole thing's a smutfest.”

That last sally was met by boos from his sisters and cousin even as Jamie glared at him.

“Will, that was disrespectful to yer Mam and me, and ye ken it!” Jamie could feel his face getting warm, and he tried his best to slow his breathing. “Ye may be too old fer a whipping, but there are other ways to deal wi' ye,” he said evilly.

“I'm sorry, Da.” Will blanched. “You're right. I was out of line.” He glared at Ian and his sisters as they giggled at his _volte-face_.

_Entertain them, she says. Tell them how we met. That should teach them some life lessons. You're so going to pay for this tonight, Sassenach. Bloody hell, the things I do only for you—_

He was going to talk with Claire later. What on earth was she teaching the lad? But back to the matter at hand. “I accept your apology, Will, but I'll tell yer Mam about it later. I'm not going to ask where ye learned that word, William.”

“You don't have to, Da. Uncle Alex told me about it,” Will said.

Jamie went quiet, surprised at this latest revelation. _So it's come to this, Sassenach when even family turn your children on you._

“I'll be having a chat wi' yer Uncle Alex when I see him next week,” he said testily. “Now all o' ye, haud yer wheesht!”

“Uh, oh. Uncle Jamie's speaking like a Highlander again. We'd all best run and take cover,” Ian sassed back.

_Aye, and here's another one without much sense between the ears. Sassenach, I'll be insisting double tonight for all this trouble._

“And that includes ye, Ian Grey.” Brianna sitting beside Ian punched his shoulder. “Brianna, I saw that. There’s no call for ye to resort to hurting Ian, no matter the provocation.”

Brianna turned to Ian and said contritely, “I apologize for hitting you Ian, no matter how much you deserve it.” She turned back to Jamie looking unrepentant.

And that was when Jamie knew they were all teasing him. He thought of getting up and leaving them to wreak havoc on the board games, the rug but, a promise was a promise. “So, must I stop or are the lot of ye going to settle down?”

Four voices assured him they would. Jamie's breathing evened out, and he unclenched his fists. His audience rearranged and draped themselves over the leather couches and deep armchairs in the cozy living room. Mugs of steaming chocolate prepared earlier were on the coffee table within easy reach of the children.

The setting was perfect as the heat from the fireplace staved off the chill of another dark, rainy day in Edinburgh. It was the ideal time to pass on a bit of their story to the family, he judged. He'd have to edit out the more adult parts of course, but he could make it up as he went along.

And so, he began.


	2. Time to Come Out

It was a clear case of English persistence versus Scottish intransigence, and Jamie was ready to concede defeat.

He wasn't sure why he was currently in a bar with, of all people, Hal Grey newly arrived from a two-month Asian trip. It was another chilly December evening, and Jamie would have been more comfortable in his flat. As best friends, didn't he have a say when they should meet?

“Bugger it, jet lag's difficult to recover from,” Hal said at five that afternoon. He was in Jamie's corner office at 102 West Port, gazing at Edinburgh Castle and its extensive grounds.

Jamie looked up at Hal Grey, the other half of Grey and Fraser Engineering and Construction, Ltd. Their firm, housed in 2,800 square feet of prime business real estate, was a second home to several CAD operators, engineers, and staff. It had been a brutal six-year climb to get better contracts and complete those they had, but they'd accomplished it.

And Hal was looking out the window as if he had a complicated problem on his hands he wanted to conquer. Jamie sighed. Hal would talk when he wanted and not a minute less.

Hal turned. Jamie was reviewing the cost estimates for a bridge-building project. A blueprint lay unrolled in front of him as well. “I've been gone for almost two months. Aren't you even mildly interested in what I've done during that time?”

“I would be if you would only give me enough time to finish checking these!” Jamie waved at the items in his desk. “And why are you in my office? Yours is just as good as mine, and you even have a comfy leather sofa and a mini-bar.”

And it was true. Jamie’s office, with its hardwood floor and wood paneling, was comfortable and traditional. True, he had ergonomic chairs, adjustable work desks, the latest desktop computer and 3-D printer models. But the overall impression was utilitarian and sparse.

Hal's office was luxurious. Plush rugs, glass tables, modern art on his walls and a monochromatic color scheme worked together to impress clients and casual visitors. While both Hal and Jamie were licensed civil engineers, the work had fallen more on Jamie's shoulders. Hal, with his extensive social network, was in charge of business development and project management.

“Give me thirty minutes more. This proposal is for the first new project we'll be bidding on for the new year, and I'd like for us to win it,” Jamie answered absent-mindedly.

Hmpf. The length and angle of that horizontal beam don't look right. He reached for his calculator—and found himself grasping thin air. He looked up to see Hal brandishing said item above his head, a massive grin on his face.

Jamie sat back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at his friend. “You know, for all that you're two years older, there are times when you act twenty years younger,” he said in a conversational tone.

Hal tutted, winked at him but took a precautionary step backward. “This is why we hire other engineers, Jamie. So we won't have to sweat the small stuff. But now I've gotten your attention—I'm taking you out for drinks. I want to talk to you about something.”

“If it's about your ancestors taking back Edinburgh Castle from the Jacobites, I'm not interested.” Jamie started drumming his hands on his desk. Squinting at Hal, he said, “Look, give me thirty minutes. I'll throw in dinner, and you can tell me all about your Asian tour, then.”

Hal handed him the calculator slowly, the smile fading from his face. “It isn't just about the countries I visited, though. Today's the fifth year.”

Jamie closed his eyes briefly, put away the folder he was reading and stood. Bloody hell, man, how could ye be insensitive? Hal's your best mate, is he no? It isn't easy to forget your wife and daughter died in a horrific vehicular accident. And don't forget, Minnie was your friend, too.

“Well, you're right. I can work on this plan over the weekend if needed. It's only the fifth of December anyway. The last day for submitting bids is in two months,” Jamie said as he collected his jacket and car keys.

“Damn right! Don't worry. The Scottish Borders Council will be chuffed with our proposal.” Hal shrugged on his overcoat.

“Now, I've been gagging for fine whiskey for the past month. I have it on good authority, I can get it and excellent keg beers at the Bow Bar. And, it's five minutes away. Drinks on me, dinner on you as you promised.”

And with that, Hal urged a bemused Jamie out of his office before he could protest, and switched off the light.

 

* * *

 

“Anyway, so there I was, walking along Merlion Park in Singapore. I stopped to admire the construction work that I paid no attention to a gaggle of tourists walking by. One burly bloke caught me by the shoulder, and I almost fell in Marina Bay!” Hal recounted while laughing.

Jamie took a swallow of his beer. After the first dram, they had silently agreed to sample the house ales and keg beers. It wasn't a bad idea. Except, it loosened Hal's tongue to the point he was unusually chatty and expansive. He'd been ribbing Jamie for the past fifteen minutes.

“They were apologetic and wanted to make up for my scare. So, I accompanied the group on their day tour. And, I ended up sitting beside a most charming Scottish lady.”

“Flirted with her, did you? So how'd it go?” Jamie plastered on a smile and took another swallow from his mug.

“It was absobloodylutely great!”

Oh no, Hal made it too easy. “How much of it was real, do you think? After all, she was trapped with you. She was probably too polite to move to another seat.”

Hal predictably took the bait and spent the next few minutes defending himself.

Jamie peeked at his watch. He had allowed himself three hours for drinks and dinner with Hal. As long as they weren't legless after by that time, he planned to return to his office to recheck the proposal.

Could Hal have developed a higher tolerance to alcohol overseas?  Or had he been spilling his drink under their table?  He was now watching Jamie, eyes bright and full of mischief, head cocked to one side. Jamie made it a point to look around him listlessly. Hal, not being slow on the uptake, would note his audience of one was bored. Hopefully, he'd escape in time to check the proposal he left on his desk.

“Fraser, you haven't been listening to me.”

“You were trying the take the piss out of me earlier. Why so?”

“Oh, you've been quite dim this evening,” Hal said. “And, it looks like you've lost the 'it' factor,” he teased, using air quotes for emphasis. “Three years ago, you'd have had a girl on both arms with a third or even a fourth waiting in the wings.”

Jamie finally had enough. He had to clench his fists to prevent himself from shoving the table at Hal.

“Three years ago, I was twenty-eight and out to conquer the world. I've just turned thirty-one. I'm in good health, and far from frail.” He glared at his friend, trying his best to keep his friend from rising. “So what are you saying, Hal? That I can't get a girl's number now?”

“What I'm saying is you don't have it in you anymore. Admit it. You've lost your nerve.” Hal shook his head and looked at him in earnest. “It's a slippery slope from here on to saggy man-boobs and flabby biceps when you're thirty-five. And I'm getting there now. One of us has to settle down with a family, and I vote that it be you.”

Jamie snorted. "This is juvenile. Who elected ye to be prime minister?  Why don't ye do it yerself? Or, find yer entertainment. That way, ye won't be dependent on me to get yer rocks off,” he said crudely.

“You are most perceptive, sir. But, we're talking about you, James, King of Men.”

“What yer doin' is tryin' my patience, Hal.”

“Well, is it working?” Hal asked wickedly. “You're beginning to sound like a Scot again. What happened to that posh British accent, eh?”

Jamie laughed. Hal was a right old reprobate and, he usually enjoyed sparring with him. But this conversation had an expiration date. And it was ten minutes ago.

“I appreciate that you've been trying to get me back in the dating game. It's just that, Hal, well, I'm not interested.”

“Well, Geneva did a number on you, as the Yanks would say. But it's more than a year. And, as your friend, I'm obligated to say it's not healthy to keep everything in.”

Jamie rubbed the back of his neck. “I can get my dates without prodding from you. I know you think I'm still pining for that cousin of yours but, I assure you, I'm not.”

“Then, there's no reason for you to hide away in your man cave. Or in the office,” Hal countered. “Geneva broke up with you, but she did it for a damned good reason. She was fond of you, but, she had to come out already.” Hal put down his glass very carefully. His eyes, when they met Jamie's, were full of remembered anger. “Though mind you, I'm still miffed. I wouldn't mind throttling her myself about the way she did it. Bad form, all around.”

Jamie grinned. Hal's loyalty was one of the reasons why he was his best mate. But Jamie was on his guard. Hal wanted something badly enough to risk getting drunk with him.

“Fine, I'll do it,” he capitulated. “Flirt around tonight, that is.”

“Deal," Hal affirmed. “Up at the bar, see that cracking blond package? She's been eyeing you for quite a bit. I must say, it should be easy, even for you.”

“Gentlemen's agreement and all that, Hal. If I'm successful, I get Monday off next week. If I'm not, I'll attend the meeting for the Leoch estate on Friday.”

“I'll settle for you chatting her up for ten minutes and, her name. No need for a phone number or email address, unless you're keen on her. No leading her on, mind you. We're not cads.”

“Done,” Jamie agreed and got up, relieved the night was almost over. He'd go to the bar, chat up the blonde, and not talk about anything profound. Inanities. That's what he'd aim for. Jamie had been bored with the whole dating scene for the past year and didn't expect anything more from this night's experience.

 

* * *

 

He sauntered up to the woman in question. She was a bit short with platinum blonde hair, brown roots showing. Oh, another bottle blonde. Why did she have to torture herself that way? The woman was a dish, but she would have been even more attractive as a brunette. He liked dark-haired women fine.

The woman wasn't alone, though. No matter, she was interested. She had straightened her posture on the stool, flipped her hair and widened her brown eyes. Was she about to pucker her red lips and rest her forefinger on them? For a moment, Jamie considered turning back to their table. But no, he’d come this far, might as well finish it.

“Hi. I'm Alex MacKenzie," he introduced himself in a deep voice. He decided it wouldn't hurt to put on a strong brogue.

“Yer wi' friends, I see. I'm wi' my friend o'er there,” he explained and pointed to Hal. Jamie was gratified to see him jerk in surprise and frown.

Oh yes, you've correctly read the situation, mate.  I'm bringing them over. You're going to be part of this, too.

“How about I get you a drink then let's go so you can meet him, too?” he asked Grace and her companions, whose names he didn’t catch during the general introductions. Jamie’s right middle and ring fingers twitched as he ordered a red wine each for the women, keeping his eyes averted and avoiding eye contact with any of them.

He reached out for a glass, not paying attention to his surroundings. As Jamie sat his bum on the stool beside Grace, he registered he was about to sit on a woman's soft lap. Embarrassed, he jumped, and to his dismay, she did the same. Then the bar stool teetered.

As the unknown woman grabbed his hand holding the wine glass, he spilled the contents on her dress and the bag on the floor beside her. They fell, Jamie desperately trying to break her fall, amid shrieks from the people around them and Hal's voice thundering to let him through.

In the scuffle, the woman hit him in his nether regions with her elbow while his flailing fist connected with her face. His groin hurt so much he doubled over, gasping on the floor, thinking he'd never have children now.

When he could manage it, Jamie angled himself from her limbs and the stool, worried about the woman—he knew he'd hurt her as well.

“Madam, where are you hurt?” he asked frantically as soon as he had scrambled on the floor to stand. As he helped her up, he once again experienced a faint electric current travel from his hands up to his arms.

Oh no, he thought stupidly, even as he searched for her eyes through the thick mass of molasses-colored, curly hair that hid her face. His heart thudded as he caught a glimpse of them when she pushed the wayward strands off her look with a trembling hand. They were cloudy, in pain, amber in the dim light of the bar.

“Jamie, you'll never see love coming for ye. She'll smack ye upside your head. So, don't laugh. Don't tempt fate.”

Mam's words echoed through his mind. He hadn't paid any attention to her advice then, intent as he was on being the youngest member of Great Britain's Olympic Archery Team.

Too bad he couldn't tell Mam she was wrong on one count.

In case he wasn't paying attention, Love had elbowed him in the bollocks even as he gave her a shiner.


	3. Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad performance review? One of her best friends having an appendectomy? Invited to her ex-fiancé's wedding? None of those fazed Clair Elizabeth Beauchamp as long as she had the perfect dress. Unfortunately, she meets Jamie Fraser on the day she brings her gown home.

There was no reason for Claire to reread the invitation. She'd memorized all the details right up to the names of the children in the wedding party. Of course, there had to be five bridesmaids and groomsmen, a flower girl and a ring-bearer. That was Frank, wanting to put on a good show.

Moving away from the _atelier_ , she bumped into another woman hurrying like she was. She smiled and said, “Uhm, I'm sorry—” but the woman had gone on without waiting for an apology.

_Well, that was so polite of you, wasn't it, Beauchamp? So, what to do now? Return to Western Gen about fifteen minutes away or hail a cab, go home and take a soak?_

She stood still, buffeted by the breeze that had sprung up and the people walking around her. Claire scraped a hand through her hair, trying to push strands of her thick mane off her face.

It was a Friday, and the wedding was on Wednesday next.

A coffee shop was open, and she dashed inside, plonking her shopping bag on the free table she'd seen by the window. She gratefully sank into a chair, intending to get up and order a cup and a pastry.

She received the invitation two months back. It had come in an envelope without a return address. And she'd opened it, curious about who would send her one. She shook her head when she saw the sheer vellum overlaying the heavy cream-colored card underneath.

“I can't believe he'd do something like this,” she had muttered. She let the card drop to the coffee table and slumped into the nearest chair in her living room. “And how the hell did he find me?”

Claire rubbed at her arms absently then folded them over her stomach, staring at the card again.

The thin cover did nothing at all to hide the words underneath, written in an ornate script:

_Sandra Travers—Frank Wolverton Randall Nuptials_

Claire rubbed her right eyelid. She didn't even know why she merited an invitation. She'd last seen Frank as the security personnel of Massachusetts Gen carted him away. 

Her friend, Gail Walters, had come on them, drawn by his raised voice. She'd seen Claire, backed up against a wall, shoulders hunched over her chest, shuddering as she absorbed the verbal abuse Frank heaped on her. Gail had called hospital security immediately. Much later, she helped Claire by writing an affidavit that would bar Frank from the hospital's premises for the next three years.

“You're never going to have someone who'll put up with all your mommy-daddy issues,” Frank had shouted.

And that should have been the last of Frank Randall. It was a wrench to leave his grandmother, Nana and his younger brother, Alex but Claire had to put herself first.

In the months that followed, Claire threw herself into her work, struggling to build healthy, balanced relationships with her friends and colleagues and had been successful—up to a point. True, there were times when Claire still felt isolated, and she hadn't had a boyfriend since Frank. But she had regained a measure of trust she had in people.

So this time, she would not let Frank win. She'd contacted a designer the following day, and her gown was now safely in her shopping bag. It was of yellow and gray crushed velvet, which showed off her shoulders and cleavage. If Frank had the unmitigated gall to invite her to his wedding, Claire would damn well let him take a good long look at how far she'd gone without him.

Sitting in a café on a rainy day in Edinburgh, things were looking up. So what if she had just had a frustrating day at work? Claire refused to think about sodding Frank any longer. She wanted coffee and something to eat before returning to her flat.

She fished around in her purse and switched her phone back on. It rang almost immediately. Claire smiled seeing it was Joe Abernathy, another friend from Boston. He'd already agreed he'd escort her. And, she was expecting both him and Gail on Sunday.

“Hey, Joe! Ready to—”

“Oh my God, Claire! I'd been trying to reach you all afternoon,” Gail's voice came over loud, clear and frantic.

Claire's heart leaped to her throat as she gripped her phone and hunched forward. There were only a few reasons for Gail to use Joe's phone instead of hers. "Ga...Gail. Please. What's hap...happened to Joe?” She forced the words out. Her free hand crept up her throat and held on.

“No, Claire, I'm sorry. I've given you that impression,” Gail's voice lowered in pitch and evened out. “He's okay now. But he had to undergo an emergency appendectomy two hours ago.”

Claire's felt her heart slow, as she broke out in a sweat. She removed her hand from her throat and allowed her body to sag against her chair. But Gail was still talking, and she forced herself to listen.

“...I called the airline and canceled our trip. Again, I'm so sorry Claire. We would have been there if we could.”

“Stuff it, Gail,” she said on an exhale. “It's okay. What's important is Joe's fine.” She sat up. “My God, I'm so relieved. Next time you keep me in suspense like that, I'm gonna smack you,” she added shakily.

“Yeah, promises promises. And, I love you, too Claire.”

Claire laughed softly. “Look, I'm in a coffee shop but haven't ordered anything yet. And, the weather's turning foul so I've got to go. Let's face time on Sunday, yeah?”

They rang off with promises for a Sunday video chat. As she gathered her bags, she thought about her new predicament. Joe was out, but she didn't want to skip the wedding. Claire wasn't running scared—not this time. She stood, left some notes on the table as an apology to the shop's management. This last bit of news called for something stronger than coffee. 

And she knew where to get it. She'd seen the Bow Bar sign coming from the atelier earlier.

“Oh, great! Finally—things are looking up," she murmured as she walked down the street. She'd make up for the loss of a warm spot at the café by having a dram or two of whiskey. She’d celebrate the success of Joe’s surgery and toast to his fast recovery.

Claire entered the pub but stopped right inside the door. The pub was noisy but clean—she hated staying in dingy places. At first, she hesitated to enter as the bar seemed full, but Claire felt compelled to stay.

_Oh well, it might be the universe telling me I do need to relax this once._

Looking over her shoulder, she was pleased to see an empty place at the bar. A tall red-headed man was standing beside it, but he seemed preoccupied with his companions. Good, I can have a drink in peace before going home.

Claire headed for the bar, intent on claiming the chair before anyone did, but six feet away, she felt her phone buzz. She deflated when she read the name of their department chair on the screen. It was never good news when he called on a Friday evening.

She looked at the screen, and while debating with herself whether to answer it, perched on the bar stool just as the red-headed jackass beside her sat on her lap. Startled, Claire jumped at the same time he did, and losing her balance, clutched at any part of the man within reach to keep herself upright.

Somehow, a few seconds later, she was lying on the floor, her right eye hurting, mobile phone missing from her hand. She didn’t know if she had blacked out, but Claire saw the moon revolving even while a warm, calloused big hand felt over her head, then helped her up.

Why are my arms tingling? And why is the room still spinning? Claire was light-headed, uncomfortable with goosebumps erupting on her arms. A hand gently brushed away the hair that had fallen on her face.

“That's so inappropriate,” she mumbled.

“Madam, where are ye hurt?” a low, clear baritone voice pressed her.

She blinked. The moon folded on to itself, morphing into an overhead light. Surprised, she focused on the sky blue, piercing eyes searching hers. Her eyes moved over his clean bone structure made up of dramatic angles in perfect symmetry with each other. His nose was high and straight, prominent cheekbones veering down to his lips. She put out an exploring hand to cup his cheek and realized the tingles came from the contact of their skin.

“Are you real?” she whispered, uncaring of the noise around her.

The man nodded eyes still intent on hers. Then he smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners, displaying straight, white teeth. His lips were so near all she had to do was move a couple of inches and— 

“I’m so glad you’re all right, ma'am,” another male voice boomed near her ear. The world suddenly rushed back in, and she fainted.


	4. At First Glance

The moon was back, luminous and mysterious, creating strange tree shadows where there were none during the day. Claire was walking through Boston Common, rubbing her arms, wondering why the building at the end of the path never seemed to get nearer. She was readying herself to break into a run—

“Claire, do ye need another cold pack?”

Claire woke from her nap with a start, her makeshift bandage had come loose, and the pack was on her shoulder. Gillian, her dear friend, was leaning over her, eyebrows raised in inquiry.

She fiddled with it a bit. “Gillian, I don't need another one but could you help me put this back?”

“I live to serve,” Gillian said with a wink. “Your attending's Dr. Christie. Did ye ask for him? Or did he shunt every other doctor away to lay his hands on ye.” she laughed as Claire made a moue of dissatisfaction.

“Do you want to see your periorbital hematoma first?” Gillian asked. At Claire's nod, she handed over a mirror.

Claire studied her reflection briefly, returning the mirror with a trembling hand. She’d seen bigger shiners but for it to happen today was a major disaster. The back of her eyes burned, forcing her to blink away unwanted tears.

“Do ye remember what happened today?” Gillian's eyes were soft and sympathetic as she reached out to pat Claire's hand.

She sighed. “Of course, I do. It started when I had this awful performance review this morning."

"Yes, I heard about that. The phrase used was 'the entire pack tore into you like a pack of wolves with a lamb.' Dr. Christie was frothing at the mouth about it," Gillian replied as she took Claire's pulse.

"Okay. First, I appreciate Tom feeling indignant on my behalf, but I resent the analogy to sheep. Second, I cited research I'd done with members of my team at Harvard Med. Ditto with the independent clinical trials conducted at the Mayo Clinic. And everyone still jumped on me!" Claire brooded for a moment. "My career's going to flatline in this godforsaken climate."

"I can see you'll be fine, Claire. You're still as ornery as ever," Gillian teased her as she added notes to Claire's chart. "But what happened tonight?"

"It wasn't a fight if that's the gossip. I fell off a stool, but someone luckily broke my fall, so I didn't hit my head on the floor. And I fainted because I haven't eaten since breakfast." She fiddled with the corner of her blanket, remembering the man's piercing blue eyes and her unwarranted reaction to him. “I was awake by the time the ambulance arrived,” she admitted in a shaky voice.

“Hey, hey,” Gillian said soothingly. “Everything’s okay. When the call came through, Pete and Davey volunteered to go get ye.”

Claire nodded and smiled faintly at Gillian. “They insisted I return to Western Gen with them.” Pete and Davey were efficient EMTs and pros at convincing patients to do their bidding. She could attest to that.

She leaned back not wanting to ask about something. A hard knot had formed in her stomach, and she was close to tears. “Dr. Christie said he'd have a rape kit prepared. Did he go through with the order?”

Gillian’s eyes snapped to her as she stood. “What, no! Did ye order for one, Claire? Someone from Bow Bar called 999 when ye fainted and requested for an ambulance. It arrived within ten minutes of the call. Dave and Petey loaded you on the ambulance as soon as they got to ye. They didn't leave ye alone after they arrived.”

Claire sighed in relief. “No, but I had to know. I told Dr. Christie it was unnecessary and that I wasn't on a date. I know it's standard procedure to ask if a patient wants a rape kit especially if she's lost consciousness at one point.” She met Gillian's eyes again. “There’s nothing wrong with it, but I thought he was going to insist.”

Then something else occurred to her, and she clutched at Gillian's scrub suit.  “Wait, did anybody else come in?”

Gillian smirked. “Oh, so you were on a date. Good for ye! But to answer your question, a couple of gentlemen followed the ambulance. You’re lucky that I’m the Nurse-in-Charge tonight else ye wouldn't get answers.”

“No, I wasn't on a date,” Claire repeated, but she felt her cheeks warm as she looked away.

“Ye should know Dr. Christie wants to keep ye overnight for observation. There's a note here that ye refused an IV line. And he scheduled ye for an MRI in two hours.”

“What? I didn't need IV fluids, and I told him so! And I don't need an MRI. Some patients need it more than I do.” Claire's breathing hitched as she panicked. “He can’t keep me here! Quick, read the chart for me.”

Gillian pulled her record from the foot of the bed. As she rattled off Tom's notes, Claire knew she was going to be okay. Tom was cautious, and Claire appreciated it but hated staying in hospitals as a patient when there was a chronic shortage of beds. She'd return tomorrow for the MRI if needed.

“So, what will I do with such handsome specimens that ye have outside? Quick, pick one and let me have the other,” Gillian teased her.

“I must admit, your aptitude for bizarre statements scares even me," Claire answered and pretended to shiver. "But, I’m willing to overlook it this time. There should be a man with red hair and blue eyes. Could you please invite him inside?”

Claire settled back into the bed. She wasn't going to stay and wasn't above asking for it from someone else. She still had some shopping to do like shoes and a bag. And probably a new coat. Tom Thumb would just have to live with her decision.

She heard a soft knock, turned her head to the door–and had to stop herself from gaping. 

Framed in the doorway was possibly the most handsome man she'd ever seen. He was every cliché a white knight should be–tall, muscular with broad shoulders. But what made him arresting was the glamor of his white smile, the good humor in his face and right now, the warmth in his eyes. And his eyes held hers, an emotion in them she couldn’t decipher.

He approached the bed. “I assume you're better,” he said. 

Claire closed her eyes. Okay, you weren't dreaming about those cat-shaped eyes. Or the man's low and rumbly voice in the bar and—

She cut off the thought and sat up straighter. 

“Yes, of course, I am,” she replied with some asperity. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Well, back at the bar, ye looked like ye were no'. I managed tae get all yer things together but, I’m afraid yer dress is damaged. I will, of course, pay fer its replacement and yer hospital bills,” he said softly, as he stooped to look into her face. “I'm afraid I can’t do anythin’ about the black eye I gave ye though.”

Claire gasped and raised a trembling hand to her right eye gingerly. Now that the man had mentioned it, she remembered he had hit her back at the bar. And though the pain had decreased, it was still present, like a low-level hum in the background.

Lost in her misery, Claire didn't pay attention as the mattress dipped and the man sat on it, careful not to jostle her. Gently, with controlled strength, he took her in his arms, hugging her with great tenderness. 

And Claire took whatever comfort he offered, shuddering from the effort of holding back her tears again. She couldn’t remember the last time someone held her like that. Didn’t know if anyone would ever hug her that way again. 

“Ye can cry, mo nighean donn. I willna mind,” he whispered. 

“Thank you, I’m fine,” she whispered back, unable to stifle the quaver in her voice. 

“I’d do anything, anything at all tae help ye, mo chridhe. Remember ye only have tae say the word.” 

She tightened her arms around his shoulders, feeling safe for the first time in ten years. Then reluctantly, she let go. It was time to put on her big girl panties. But damn, that hug rated 20 on a 10-point rating scale. 

He held on a second longer before allowing her to leave his arms. Still moving slowly, he stood then held out his hand. 

“I’m afraid we did things backward,” he said with a smile.

Claire looked up at him, distracted by the way the overhead lights made a halo of his red hair. 

“I’m James Alexander Malcolm Fraser, and I’m so pleased to meet ye,” he introduced himself. 

She took his hand and said in turn, “Claire Beauchamp. I’m a doctor of internal medicine in this hospital, but I'm Claire to my friends.” He took her hand, raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm. 

There was no other word for it. Claire melted, feeling that kiss in her core. 

“And please, call me Jamie. Is there nothing I can do for ye?” 

“Yes, there is. This shiner is nothing—it’ll go away eventually. But I can't stay in the hospital. There are others who need urgent care and, I have important things to do.” Seeing his eyes widen, she added, “This is just a superficial injury.”

“There's nothing wrong with the way you look," he said gallantly. "But, please, allow me to drive you around.”

"I can’t stay here,” she said, ignoring his statement. "First, I’ve got to get home and prepare for a wedding near Oxford on Wednesday. I’ll have to be ready to leave at the latest, on Tuesday morning.” Despite her best intentions, her voice rose in pitch. "And it's not any wedding. It's my ex-fiancé's. I know," she added, seeing his eyebrow quirk up, "the invitation was in bad taste, considering we didn't part exactly friends."

“I would think no man would ever willingly separate from ye. But no worries, I’ll spring ye out of here,” Jamie offered gallantly.

"You're going to have to be forceful. My attending's name is Dr. Thomas Christie and, he's a stickler for rules." 

"Is he going to be an arse on principle or is it because he's got a personal stake in your continuing good health?"

"I don't quite know what you mean, Mr. Fraser—" she said, hedging her answer. She couldn't understand what had come over him. His face had reddened, and he looked distinctly unhappy. She began apologizing, but he forestalled her by holding up a hand.

"I'll be addressing you as Claire, so I insist you call me Jamie. I asked you that because I don't want to take away another man's responsibility. If this Dr. Christie is your boyfriend or fiancé, then I should know and apologize to him as well."

Claire bristled and snapped back, "Is this the nineteenth century? Are you going to begin talking to him as if I weren't around? And, for your information, he's not my anything. He's one of the physicians in this hospital." She stopped.

Sometime during her rant, he'd stopped frowning and was back to smiling at her.

"Claire, all you had to do was say he's nothing to you. That would have sufficed."

"Why, you conceited man—" She clutched at her pillow, intending to hurl it at him when Jamie approached her bed again and bent, taking care to look into her face.

"Mo cridhe, I was teasing ye," he said. Then he carefully tucked an errant piece of hair behind her ear. "I'm happy I don't have to fight anyone for ye. But, if you're attending a wedding, did you pick up your dress today?”

She nodded, still unable to speak but his question and the tone he used when asking it set off alarms in her head. Her breathing hitched as she braced herself for the next revelation.

Jamie straightened and gestured helplessly at the other item on her nightstand. "I mentioned it earlier, but ye may have forgotten about it.”

Claire's could feel waves of dizziness wash over her as she stared at the white shopping bag now covered with purple stains. It was gaping open and, she could see the inside of the bag was stained. 

She tipped her head back. "No, it can't be. That's it. Why can't I catch a break?" she mumbled bleakly. Claire drew up her knees, clasped her arms around them and lay her head on her arms.


	5. Inspiration Strikes

Like all boys of fifteen, Jamie thought he knew everything until Da roped him in for his version of a grown-up-sex-education discussion. “The Talk” occurred the year he turned fifteen.

“Jamie, a word if ye will,” Da said right after breakfast the Saturday after his birthday.

“But Da, today's important! Team members will be competing against each other during target practice.”

“It's this afternoon, and I'll be driving ye there. It won't take more than thirty minutes. And, this is the best time for it.”

He had joined Da willingly enough, as they climbed up the hill behind the house. They stopped on the very top where a tree branch served as a chair for both of them. The slight breeze was pleasant, after the close confines of the house, ruffling Da's hair slightly.

“I didn't get to discuss women with ye again after the last time.”

“When I was five or six, you told me about sperm and eggs. Ye got me in trouble in school with that one, Da. No one believed me. And when I was ten, you said I would be attracted to girls as I grew older.” Jamie rubbed his nape. “But I didn't believe you. I never thought I’d ever want to kiss a girl,” Jamie said wryly. They laughed about it then fell silent.

“I'll just add some bits,” Da replied. He was looking down on their home, his eyes hooded. Jamie was absent-mindedly shredding a leaf he found on the ground. “This is the first. Ye have a sister and a mother. Girls, women, they're different from us men, aside from the physical, that is.”

He got up and stretched. Jamie did the same. He was proud Da considered him to be a man, but it seemed to him that it was disrespectful to be sitting while his Da had something important to share. “Women are more sensitive regarding their feelings and those for whom they feel affection. So let your woman feel cherished, protected and secure. Win her consent and earn her affection. Only then will ye have a happy relationship.”

That discussion was seventeen years ago. Jamie had, since then done his best with his relationships, treating his girlfriends with care and affection. But today, he had failed Claire.

He'd been drawn to her, back in the bar, even without seeing her face. But Jamie touched her, and the feel of her skin on his had made his heart begin thudding in his chest. He couldn't draw a deep breath, without even seeing her face; had felt intense fear and remorse in the first five minutes he'd held her when he thought she was injured. Claire had now withdrawn into herself, and it was Jamie's fault.

He didn't know what to do. Mam and Jenny would have immediately thrown a fit. Geneva would have sulked then later, rampage around the house, then ignore him again for as long as she needed before deciding to forgive him.

Claire's reaction, on the other hand, made him nervous. He'd never seen anyone withdraw into themselves the way she did. He had to do something—oh, and now Claire was shaking. Was she crying?

He waited for a few more heartbeats before approaching the bed and reached out a hand to touch her shoulder. “Mo cridhe, I'm sorry about what happened to your gown—” He jerked back when she lifted her face to his. She was laughing!

“The dress was yellow and grey—crushed velvet. I know, not very practical but still–” Claire drew in a breath. "I was assured it was all fashionable. It had a sweetheart neckline, not that you know what it is, but…your face–!”

“I'm sorry,” he said. “If I could have kept my balance, I—”

She suddenly pulled the pillow against her face and let out a shriek of laughter that completely drowned out his words.

Claire slid limply down the bed while the room filled with her musical laughter. Jamie was at a loss wondering if she was hysterical. But he hesitated, not wanting to disrupt her as she found an outlet for her distress. He remained silent instead, taking in her flushed, laughing face, the bandage holding the ice pack in place slightly askew, lending her a jaunty, endearing air.

“Oh God, the universe does throw random curveballs when you least expect it,” she choked out.

“Claire,” he said gently and lifting the pillow from her face, touched her forehead with the back of his hand, “Are you running a fever?”

“No, I most assuredly am not. I'm the doctor here, and I can tell better than you. Come on Jamie. There’s no call for you to look so guilty,” she teased him.

Jamie was astounded. She was thinking of him!

“Jamie, it was an accident, all right? But I must have been somewhere else when God decided to shower blessings and good fortune on people,” Claire added as she plumped up her pillow. She looked up at him solemnly. “I won’t press charges. I promise you that.”

Then it hit him. Jamie chuckled softly, heart expanding with tenderness. His Claire was trying to make him feel less guilty. “You're an amazing woman, Claire.”

“No, I'm not, not really. I only choose not to cry over it anymore. If I wasn't meant to attend the wedding, then who am I to stand against the superior force of fate?”

She unclasped her hands from her knees and lay back on her pillow, still smiling. Jamie looked his fill of her heart-shaped face with its fine bone structure, and curly hair of a dozen shades of brown, spilling all over the pillow. Her one visible eye was sparkling with good humor, under a winged brow. Her eyes were amber as he recalled. The one eye was now lighter now, the color of well-aged sherry.

He sat on her bed gingerly, trying not to lean forward to give her space. Reaching out a finger to remove unruly curls from her flushed cheeks, he said with sincerity, “Even if ye do sue, mo chridhe, I willna mind. I’ll gladly pay if it makes ye happy.”

She smiled at him gently. “And I believe you mean that. But, it's not in your power to help me. Not for my current predicament. Let's reserve it for when I do need assistance, okay?”

He watched her for a moment. He needed to know why attending the wedding so crucial in the first place. Jamie's stomach muscles tightened, and for a second or two, he felt his face was stretched too tight over his skull. He looked at her furtively wondering if he should ask.

“Is there anything wrong?” She was eying him speculatively.

He unclenched his jaw. “Why?”

“You were growling.”

He checked himself. The burning sensation in his chest only intensified. “So, why did ye want to attend the wedding anyway? Do ye still have feelings for the man?” he asked in a rush.

She frowned at his question. “No, I don't. But the last time I saw him was unpleasant.” She moved restlessly under the blanket.

Jamie forced himself to look away. It wasn't right, to imagine those legs around him. Not when she lay on a hospital bed, possibly still hung up over another man. He could feel his blood pressure rising.

“I was engaged to Frank three years ago.” Jamie nodded at her to continue. “We met when I was a junior in pre-med, and he was a newly transplanted lecturer from Imperial College. He even met Uncle Lamb.” At Jamie's raised eyebrows she explained, “My uncle raised me since I was five.”

Jamie was surprised but decided his questions could wait. He was more interested in her reason for wanting to attend the wedding of her ex. He shifted his weight on the bed, careful not to jostle her.

With a faraway look in her eyes, she said, “We dated a few times after I graduated. And he knew Lamb.”

Muscles tensing again, Jamie barely restrained himself from saying rude about this Frank fellow. But he’d asked for it and had to deal with it. In the meantime, Jamie could set aside this unaccustomed jealousy to help her relive a painful experience.

“Anyway, long story short, he showed up again when I turned 28, was more persistent and we got engaged. Six months into our relationship, I discovered he was a serial cheater, so I broke up with him.” Claire looked at him, slightly challenging. “It was my right.”

“Of course it was,” he answered.

“I didn't even get to say goodbye to his brother, grandmother, and parents.” She looked at him sadly. “I liked them a lot, you see. And I loved Nana. I wonder if she thought about me again after Frank and I broke up?”

The tension left him at her words, but he couldn't stop himself from asking, “Are you sure she reciprocated yer feelings?” Seeing her face darken, he hurried on, “Because I can't help you with that. I can't make anyone love you or fall in love with you.”

Claire gaped at him. “You just quoted the Genie in Aladdin to me.”

“Yes, I did. And like the genie, I can offer you three wishes,” Jamie said, inexplicably pleased she understood his quote, “If I could help, what would ye need?”

“That seems to be extremely juvenile but,” she said, cocking her head to one side, pretending to consider, “I'll play along. Do the usual conditions apply?”

“Of course they do. What kind of genie would I be if I let you get the drop in me?” Jamie answered, leering at her. “Okay, first, you can't wish for more wishes. Second, I can't bring anyone back from the dead. Third, as said, I can't make anyone fall in love with you.”

“I would never wish for that!” she hissed in mock outrage, then completely spoiled the effect by giggling. “But I'll play along. First, I’ll have to look for a replacement gown. The dress code's formal which means, where I'm from, a gown for women and a tuxedo for men.”

“Done. I can help with your gown. My sister is a fashion designer, and the atelier's near my office. I’ll bring you to her tomorrow and see what we can do. And the other?”

Ignoring his question, she asked, “Don't you think you're getting ahead of yourself? For all you know, your sister may refuse to help.”

“She won't,” he said with conviction. “She may object at first but, she'll agree to it in the end. We've always been close, even while quarreling.”

Claire was watching him in fascination. “I don't think you'd ever hurt a woman physically but what about knock-down, drag-out debates?”

“We've had those, too,” he assured her. “Especially about politics. But we've always managed to recover from those arguments.”

She sighed, looking pensively down on her hands. “You're so lucky having someone with whom you could share your thoughts.”

“Not really. But when I'm in a spot of trouble, she’s always been there for me. Because that's what families do, they help each other.” Jamie smiled, replaying a scene from his childhood. “She's older by two years, but there are days when she bosses me around as Mam does—”

He broke off. Claire's face had reddened, and she had turned her face away from him.

“Mo cridhe, are ye in pain? Shall I call for a nurse?” he asked as he reached for the cable dangling over the headboard.

Shaking her head without looking at him, she started plucking at the light blanket covering her.

“Claire, did I say or do anything wrong?” he asked, puzzled at her change in demeanor.

She looked up at him, a strange tightness under her eyes. “No, everything's okay.”

“Everything isn't okay,” he disagreed, letting go of the cable. Claire's lips thinned briefly, but she shook her head. “Come on. You're upset. I won't judge—promise.” He reached over to clasp one of her hands.

“I'm a cow.” She turned her hand over and linked their fingers.

“You shouldn't talk about yourself that way, mo cridhe,” he chided her gently.

“I'm an only child. And when I was five, my parents died in a car accident.” She was swallowing convulsively now. He tightened his grip on her hand.

She squeezed back then slowly let go of his hand, smoothing the blanket instead. “See, I'm a horrible person. You're helping me and yet for a moment there, I was so envious you had a sister like that.”

He hesitated, trying to find the right words to help alleviate her distress.

“Claire, look at me, please.” He waited until she raised her face to his, eyes vulnerable and trusting. Jamie felt a strong urge to kiss her, but he managed to restrain himself. Barely. “I am not going to pretend I know how you feel as both my parents are still alive.”

“It's okay.” She smiled tremulously at him. Then her lashes came down to hide her eyes.

“The people we love never leave us, Claire. They watch over us. And the memories we have? Sometimes, they fade away.” Her eyes flew open. “ You forget the arch of your father's eyebrows or the curve of your mother's cheek. It's natural. What's important is you remember how they made you feel and how you loved them in return.”

“How did you know I was feeling guilty about forgetting their faces?” she asked as she searched his face.

He looked at her, deciding whether it was too soon to confide in her. “Trust,” Da had said. “Trust is the key to make your woman open her heart to ye.”

“It's because that's exactly how I feel and what's been happening lately. You see, my older brother Willie died ten years ago. It’s still an open murder case.”

She gasped, her eyes softening.

“It's been a long time, mo cridhe.” He badly wanted to kiss her, but she wasn't ready for it. Instead, he put an arm around her shoulder and smiled teasingly. “There's no shame in feeling envious, ye were missing yer parents, that's all. But if ye need them, I'm willing to share my sister and younger brother with ye.”

Claire returned his smile briefly then moved away. Jamie removed his arm and stood, feeling the moment of intimacy fade away.

“Thank you.” She hesitated with her next words.

Nodding in encouragement, he said, “Go ahead, is there anything else you may need help with?”

“It's the most important thing,” she said shakily. She drew a deep breath then let it out slowly.

“Leave the best for last, aye?”

“I don’t want to attend the wedding looking like I’d been in a brawl. Makeup will fix some of that I know. But, there's no help for it. I’ll need something extra that will keep everyone distracted.” She lifted her chin and said, “I refuse to be pitied by anyone.”

She hesitated, drew in a deep breath then let it out slowly. She looked at Jamie steadily, back ramrod straight.

“So, Jamie, could you please pretend to be my boyfriend and accompany me to my ex-fiancé's wedding next week?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hope you all enjoy the season" was my original message.
> 
> I finished this story in December but I decided to revise it months after. If you read this story before, then you'll know the original fanfic ended in five chapters. Epilogue to follow!


	6. Quilting Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire expands her social circle by two.

And counting, one, two three—Jamie stood speechless, seemingly locked in place. He had not been expecting it.

Claire dropped her eyes, unable to meet his after her embarrassing request. Seconds passed, as she fiddled with the sleeve of her hospital gown.

_And why not? No sane person would want to act out a lie. But you'd already asked him, Beauchamp. There's no backing out now. You can wait for his answer or send him away, now. Where's your pride?_

He wasn't going to answer her. She rubbed the back of her neck and cleared her throat. Without looking at him, she said, “Never mind. I'm sorry. It wasn't a good idea—”

"There's nothing to forgive." Claire stopped as she felt a weight on the bed. Jamie's arm went around her shoulder and squeezed her in a one-armed hug. “I made ye wait for my answer, Sassenach. It was never my intention to make ye feel small. I'm so sorry, Claire.” His voice was low and hoarse.

"There's no need to explain, Jamie." She cleared her throat again. "I should be apologizing for putting you on the spot. But are you sure this is what you want?" She tilted her head to look at him.

He met her stare without flinching. “Yes, I am. What's wrong with agreeing, eh?” He looked so sincere that Claire had no choice to believe him. “This is a plan with limitless potential for embarrassment. What's not to like?”

Claire smiled, in appreciation of his sense of humor. “This request doesn't come with conditions. I still won't sue you if you don't agree.”

“I'm glad to know that,” he said. “But what I'm worried about is that you may change your mind and I'll be stuck with Hal for five days.”

Surprised into giggling she moved, dislodging his arm.

“Not likely!” she sputtered. “I applied for a four-day leave of absence about seven weeks ago, and my department chair cleared it. If I don't take it, I'll never hear the end of it and,” she said more seriously, “I may never get the chance again to take a break.”

"Ahem," Hal's voice boomed from the open door. "The nurse outside, Ms. Duncan, informed me you're ready to accept more visitors."

 

* * *

 

Jamie turned to watch him approach, happy to make the introductions. But Hal veered away and planted himself on the other side of the bed. He smiled, eyeing Claire with unconcealed interest.

He was suspicious. Not that he ever paid much attention when it happened, he was a guy after all. But Jamie had seen that smile many times at uni, usually directed at hapless, innocent co-eds.

"I'm Harold Grey, this numbskull's friend, and business partner. But please, call me Hal. Now before anything else, I'd like you to know I wish I'd been able to reach you in time to cushion your fall."

Claire blushed as he watched. She was lovely, he thought, even with a spectacular bruise covering one eye. But he didn't know the game Hal was playing. Jamie tried to catch his eye, but his friend refused to look at him.

_Excluding me from yer conversation are ye, lad? I'll give ye a real bollocking when I see you next._

"Hal, this is Dr. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp," he said, emphasizing her title.

"Please, it's Claire. Dr. Beauchamp's a mouthful," she informed Hal.

He stepped forward, then taking the hand she held out to him, bent to kiss her cheeks. Straightening, he gave Jamie a measuring look.

For the first time in their long friendship, Jamie wanted nothing more than to plant a facer on his friend. He frowned, clenching his fists to keep his temper in check. He subtly extended the middle finger of his right hand and showed it to Hal.

Hal grinned in return, radiating goodwill and charm. "Forgive me, but I overheard you talking earlier. You can ride with me if you need to get home soon. My car’s large enough and comfortable for a ride home."

"No, I'll do it. The backseat of my pickup is wider than yours. And it's my responsibility to see Claire home," Jamie protested.

"Oh, you might be busy. Grace gave me her phone number, email address, and Facebook account by the way. I also managed to clear up the matter of your name." Fishing in his pocket, Hal handed him a slip of paper and winked. “She asked me to remind you to call as soon as you’ve finished here.”

Jamie had taken the note automatically, trying to remember who Grace was. When he did, he immediately let go of it, watching in fascinated horror as it fell to the bed. He looked up, dreading Claire's reaction to the fact that he was picking up a woman when she first saw him.

"I swear to ye, I didna ask for her number. I got one of the wine glasses to pass to her when ye—" Jamie trailed off, gaping at her.

Claire was shaking, both hands covering her red face, trying her best to stifle her laughter. Jamie scowled at Hal, silently promising retribution.

But Hal ignored him. And with no thought to self-preservation, he beamed and shook his head.

"There's no need to explain anything, Jamie," Claire managed to gasp out as she lowered her hands, still struggling to control herself. "I understand. When I first saw you, I assumed you were on a date. I'm sorry for disrupting your night. It's okay, I'll take Hal up on his offer, and you can return to Grace."

Hal, the traitor, was chuckling. Jamie felt the back of his neck and ears heating up as he glared at him.

"Since it's all settled Claire, allow me to make arrangements for your release. I'll be back within an hour," Hal assured her. And with that, he finally left.

Jamie turned his head to watch him leave, too upset to say anything. He was still tingling with tension when smaller, softer hands covered his. He turned to Claire, his irritation dropping away as he flipped his hands and intertwined their fingers. She smiled at him gently.

"It's all right, Jamie. I can see you're stressed about the situation, but you should go and see your er, friend." Jamie wanted to stop her from saying anything else. He didn't want Grace. He only wanted to spend more time in her company. "I'll leave my phone number and email address with Hal. Will you call me tomorrow?" she asked.

"Let me clarify something first. I wasn't on a date," Jamie stated. She quirked an eyebrow, and he hurried to explain. "Hal asked if I wanted to talk to her seeing she'd been looking at me for some time..." His voice trailed off.

"I'm mucking things up, am I not?" he asked sheepishly. Claire nodded, biting her lower lip, eyes dancing. "Then please, let me bring ye home, er, that is to yer home wherever it is, not mine—" he blundered on.

She hesitated then said, "If you're sure it's not an inconvenience, then yes, Jamie."

Jamie shivered, imagining Claire saying yes to a different question. She had uttered his name in a low, tender, breathless voice. His jeans were uncomfortably tight as he imagined her begging in that tone.

Impulsively, he raised her hands and kissed them. He saw a flicker of attraction in her eyes, took in her parted lips and leaned forward to take them.

"Oh, Jamie! Thank goodness you're still here," a feminine voice called out.

 

* * *

 

The woman had impeccable timing—Claire gave her that. In another second or two, she would have been kissing Jamie, and she doubted she would stop once they'd started. Claire's hospital room felt confining with the stranger glaring at her, mouth set in a straight line.

Claire stared, feeling her stomach harden. She couldn't remember the woman Jamie was talking to at the bar when she first saw him. Could this be Grace? If she was, Claire was going to give her top marks for persistence and stalking.

"Now, Jenny, how did ye ken I was here?"

Claire looked up at Jamie, who'd let go of her hands the minute Jenny entered the room. She was pressing her lips so tight—for fear she'd say something rude—that they felt numb. The woman wasn't Grace as she first feared. Was Jamie married, after all? Was that the reason for not answering her invitation right away?

And who would blame him, she thought bitterly. Jenny was beautiful and petite unlike her curvy figure on a five-foot-eight-inch frame. Black, shoulder-length wavy hair, dark eyebrows arched over blue eyes in an oval face.

Rupert, told me, ye muckle-headed idiot. He was at the bar, but ye didn't see him. 'Intent on his prey' were his words.”

Claire gasped at the insult, sure Jamie would object. But he didn't. Instead, he advanced on Jenny and swept her in a bear hug, letting her down only when she squealed. His arm remained on Jenny's shoulders though with the ease of a familiar gesture. Turning to Claire, he made an old-fashioned bow and introduced Jenny.

"Sassenach, meet Janet Flora Arabella Murray—"

"Looks like it's my fate to be forever barging in on your big scenes, Jamie," Hal's voice boomed from the doorway. Claire instinctively looked over at him and smiled, relieved his presence would ease the awkwardness of the situation.

"Are those my discharge papers, Hal?" she asked, pointing to the sheaf of papers he held in one hand.

Hal walked over to stand on the other side of her bed, pointedly ignoring Jamie and Jenny. He attached the documents to a clipboard and placed the items on Claire's lap.

“Yes, my dear. The hospital insists you sign them if you intend to discharge yourself without Dr. Christie's approval.” He leaned over, handing over his pen to Claire while pointing where she had to sign.

“How was he? Did he give you a hard time? What did he say?” she asked as she scribbled her signature. Vaguely registering movement on her left, she turned to apologize to Jamie for ignoring him. Claire's words died on her lips when she met Jamie's frown and Jenny's glare, both directed at her.

It shouldn't have mattered, but she was unnerved and sufficiently irritated to raise her voice. “What’s wrong? If either of you—”

“He didn't believe me at first,” Hal broke in, catching her attention again. “I had to show him my identification before he agreed to have these documents readied.”

“Thanks so much!” she exclaimed. “I didn't feel up to arguing with Dr. Christie earlier, but I'll have a word with him when I return from Oxford next week.”

“That's good m'dear. I'll have to return to the good doctor, have the record section sign, then Bob's your uncle, and you'll be good to go. I'll bring my car to the entrance and—.”

“Hmpf, Hal, that's unnecessary," Jamie interrupted sharply. “Claire changed her mind and agreed to allow me to bring her home.” Jamie let go of Jenny's shoulders and took a step toward Claire. “But, you can bring my sister, Jenny home instead.”

Hal paled so fast as he stared slack-jawed at Jenny that Claire thought he was going to faint. Jenny, on the other hand, had turned an unusual shade of rose. She was pretty sure the two had met though Jamie was behaving as if this was their first introduction.

“Jenny? That's your name?”

“It's Janet Flora Arabella Murray nee Fraser,” she answered with an edge in her voice that was evident even to Claire. “I was also known as Janet MacKenzie Fraser. And you're the famous Harold Grey? My brother's best friend who's managed to avoid meeting me the last oh, eleven years?”

“To be fair, Jenny, Hal's only been a real friend nine or ten out of those twelve years you mentioned.” Jamie chuckled, but it died out when no one joined in.

“So, Mrs. Murray, is your husband around?” Hal asked in an unfriendly tone.

Shocked silence met his question. Jenny stood white-faced and thin-lipped.

“You ass, she's been a widow these past six years,” Jamie spat out. Jenny watched Jenny's eyes flash then glanced back at Hal who was gaping at the other woman.

“I was married for only two years—not that you have any right to know. And, I can find my way home. I didn't exactly fly here on a broomstick if that's what you're thinking.”

Surprisingly, Hal laughed. It was a warm laugh, one that invited people to listen and join in the warmth of his humor, and Jenny wasn't immune to it.

Claire was bemused. There was so much more going on she didn't know what to think. Jamie took the last step toward Claire, and she reached out to take hold of his jacket. He captured her hand instead, and they watched Hal and Jenny.

“I apologize deeply, Janet. No one told me. And for the record, I don't go around, insulting women I'd just met.” There it was again, that undercurrent of feeling Claire couldn't understand. She could almost hear Hal tack on “Unlike you—”

A thumb was caressing Claire's knuckles, soothing her. Somehow Jamie had caught on to her disquiet and was calming her, like a cat. With a squeeze of her own, she let go of his regretfully but smiled at him.

“Hi, Jenny. I'm Claire Beauchamp. Jaimie, I'm ready to sign. Shall we now prepare for the departure from this hospital?”

“I'll get Nurse Duncan,” Hal offered then hurried out.

Claire saw Jenny watching Hal go, a soft smile on her face. But Jamie distracted her from watching further by sitting on the bed and smiling down on her.

“Now, braither, could you enlighten me on your latest cock-up?”


	7. Throwing Down the Gauntlet

Not having siblings, Claire didn’t know if Jenny’s question was acceptable or rude. She’d seen the protective manner her friend Joe treated his sisters and, she knew Gail spoiled her younger brother. But, she wasn’t sure if Jamie could take the put-down gracefully.

“You know part of the story from Rupert, eh? What he didn’t tell you is I spilled red wine over her bag and her dress. It’s over there in the corner. Could you take a look and tell me if you can remove the stain?” Jamie asked anxiously, to Claire’s surprise.

Peeking inside the shopping bag, Jenny immediately closed it, looking over to Claire as she answered, “Velvet is a bold choice for the gown and the color’s gorgeous. Unfortunately, that wine stain won’t come out.”

Then turning to Jamie, she smacked him upside his head, “And what the hell were ye doing that ye didn’t pay attention to where ye were sitting?”

“Will you leave off hitting me?” he sputtered, throwing up an arm to fend her off. “I’m surprised Rupert didn’t report the whole thing immediately.”

Claire must have looked confused because Jamie explained, “Rupert’s a cousin and a terrible gossip. But I didn’t see him.”

Jenny stared at Claire accusingly. “He said Jamie was picking women up at the Bow Bar.” She gave Claire a once over, saying disapprovingly, “I find it disgraceful that a professional like you, trolls pubs like a common tart.”

Letting out a gasp, Claire felt her cheeks grow warmer at Jenny’s insult.

In the silence that followed, Jamie snapped, “There’s no call for ye to be rude, Jenny and not that it’s any of yer business—”

“Jamie’s right,” Claire ground out, heart thudding in her chest. “I don’t have to explain anything. Your sister though, made it sound like I frequent pubs for one-night stands. If you must know, I was celebrating the end of a horrid day by having a drink on my way home.”

“This is a new low, even for you, Jenny. You owe Claire an apology,” Jamie growled, as he continued to frown at her. “It was an accident. I almost sat on her and damaged the gown she was going to wear for next week.”

As Jenny shook her head, Jamie added, “Fine, there are other designers who in Edinburgh who may be up to the challenge. I just thought of you first since you’re my sister.” He turned back to Claire, saying, “I’ll draw up a list tonight, and we’ll hit up some boutiques tomorrow like Kakao by K.”

“Hey, wait a minute!” Jenny interrupted him. “What about me?”

“You already refused to help me, Jenny. I’m talking about Plan B now.”

“But I never said that!” she protested, gripping her bag tightly. Claire wasn’t sure if Jenny planned to throw it at Jamie and was going to warn him when he spoke again.

“Well?” he challenged Jenny who regarded him and Claire with marked disfavor, “Can you do it? I promised to replace Claire’s gown, and it’s got to be by Monday at the latest.”

Jenny quirked an eyebrow at him. “Oh, so now I’m supposed to drop everything I’m doing to save your neck? It so happens I’m going to be busy this weekend. Something’s come up.”

“I’m not in the mood for games, Jenny. The wedding Claire’s attending is on Wednesday next week.” He stared at Jenny coldly. “Forget I said anything if you can’t make up your mind whether to help or not.”

“Who brought you to this hospital?” she asked Claire. It was a non-sequitur that Claire didn’t immediately answer.

Jamie seemed surprised as well but replied without hesitation. “Someone called for an ambulance. Most likely it was Rupert. Then Hal and I followed as soon as we could.”

“And neither of you imbeciles thought to go with her during her ride to this hospital? Unbelievable!” Jenny rolled her eyes at him.

Claire had never met a woman as bluntly disagreeable as Jenny Murray nee Fraser at first acquaintance. Remembering everything Jamie had said about his sister, Claire didn’t know if Jenny had hidden her claws from Jamie or that he deliberately ignored her insolence. Perhaps Jenny was unpleasant to all women connected with her brother. But whatever Jamie’s reason for misleading her, Claire could feel the knot in her stomach slowly tightening as she clenched her fists tightly on her lap.

“I’ll be more careful with your choice of words if I were you. Claire got here safely, and that’s the most important thing. Does it matter in the end?” he asked.

Fiddling with a corner of her blanket, Claire didn’t know whether to interfere, uncomfortable with the quarrel brewing in front of her. She knew Jenny loved Jamie. That much was evident from the relief on her face when she entered the room. But getting Jenny to see reason was like trying to talk down a toddler from screaming his head off.

“Of course it does!” Jenny regarded Claire coldly as she shifted her purse to the other shoulder. “And who’s paying for this room and your medical services?”

“I am,” Claire declared as she sat up straighter. “I’m a physician here, and it’s one of my perks as an employee. Why is it important?”

“It matters if you intend to sue Jamie afterward for everything he’s worth,” Jenny said, taking a step toward him. “All you need is to have your picture taken like that and presto! There’s instant fodder for a lawsuit.”

Claire scowled at her. “I already told him I’m not going to sue. It was an accident,” she repeated, seeing Jamie out of the corner of her eye inching toward her.

“You say that now. What happens after you talk to a lawyer, eh?”

“Jenny, enough!” Jamie said through gritted teeth. He’d reached Claire’s side and was hovering around her protectively. “Yer behavior’s intolerable. Ye should be ashamed of yerself, badgering her like this!”

In the silence that followed Jamie's scolding, Claire watched Jenny’s face soften, breaking into a sweet smile that surprised Claire so much, she almost missed the other woman’s next words.

“Oh, it’s like that, eh?” Jenny asked Jamie.

“Aye,” Jamie answered after a few moments, his face calm as he locked eyes with his sister. “Exactly like that.”

 

* * *

 

Jamie knew, in the way younger siblings always did, that his sister would eventually morph into a friend. Older by two years, Jenny alternately smothered and drove him crazy over the most trivial of concerns. But they had a special bond only they knew how to navigate. And Jamie knew Jenny had never let him down before—at least not when it truly mattered.

“So, if I replace this gown or finish one for you within the next seventy-two hours, you won’t sue Jamie?” Jenny pressed Claire.

“Yes, Jenny, that’s what I mean,” Claire finally snapped and glared at her. “I’ll be leaving for the U.S. once my training is over in six months. I’ve got a position waiting for me at Massachusetts Gen, and I wouldn’t want to be part of a lawsuit that might drag on for years.”

Jamie’s heart sank, and he turned his head away. He hadn’t thought beyond the wedding. Here he was, almost dreaming of his own when she was going to leave soon!

Jenny folding her arms below her chest was never a good sign. Paired with a tapping foot and cocked hip meant an imminent explosion. She was at the first stage now, quirking an eyebrow when Claire’s threw her hands up. Despite his disappointment at learning her plans, he caught one of her hands, partly to keep Claire from further annoying Jenny but mostly because he liked the feel of her skin against his.

“You know what? You don’t have to replace my dress. It was an accident, a fluke,” Claire gritted out.

Jamie held on tighter to her hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of it, hoping his action was having the same soothing effect on her that it did on him. He narrowed his eyes at Jenny warning her to stop.

“So why won’t you believe me when I say I don’t intend to do anything that would land Jamie in the middle of litigation,” Claire asked staring down at his hand.

Jenny looked at their linked hands, waggling her eyebrows, and sticking the tip of her tongue at him. A thread of amusement reverberated through Jamie even as he retaliated, staring at Jenny and widening his eyes. She avoided his eyes but pressed a fist hard against her lips as if stifling laughter.

Jamie settled on the bed, placing an arm around her shoulder and looking into her face, said, “Mo cridhe, Jenny doesna mean what—”

“Jenny,” Claire interrupted, “You can take the gown and shove it.”

‘...where the sun don’t shine’ hung unspoken over the room. Jamie hunched over Claire more, threw a glare at Jenny—

And met her dancing eyes. “Jamie, can we keep her, please?” Jenny asked in a trembling voice before exploding into laughter, leaning helplessly against the wall in her mirth.

Claire looked up, an expression of comical bewilderment on her face that amused him so much, he snorted to cover a laugh. “Don’t mind her, mo cridhe. When she was but a ween, William dropped her in the coal bin when she was but a ween,” he whispered _sotto voce_.

“So, it’s mo cridhe now, is it?” Jenny gasped out before bending over in laughter. “Please tell me, Claire, that you gave as good as you got at the bar,” she begged, wiping away tears from her eyes.

“Okay, enough already,” Jamie said, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve been entertained at my expense. So, are you going to help me with the gown for her?”

Jenny bit her lip before answering. “Never doubt it, Jamie,” she said. “I just wanted to confirm a few things, before being scooped by, er Rupert.”

Claire tugged at Jamie’s hand bringing his attention back to her. “Could you please explain what’s happening now,” she asked, clearly irritated.

“I believe you, Claire,” Jenny said as she straightened up from the wall and approached the bed, still shaking her head. “I apologize for needling you, but I had to be sure ye weren’t out to fleece this idiot brother of mine.” Seeing Claire’s look of curiosity, she marveled, “He didn’t tell you anything about himself. Such modesty and restraint!” Patting Claire’s hand, Jenny added, “You and I are going out next week.”

Jamie’s soul withered on the spot imagining Jenny and Claire together. Bonding. Talking about him. “I didnae have time, ye know. Claire woke about an hour ago.” Feeling the need for activity, he stood, still holding on to Claire’s hand.

Jenny surveyed them again with something akin to satisfaction. And, in a complete turn-around from her previous attitude, invited Claire in a friendly manner to her shop the following morning.

 


	8. Interlude

 

They’d arrived at her flat at eleven with Jamie carrying Claire to her bedroom and putting her to bed. Later, he had hovered around her like a red-headed, giant bumble bee, watching her sip the tea he’d made.

“See, that wasn’t so bad now, was it, mo graidh? You’ve lived in the States for too long.”

“I wanted coffee but,” she grumped, “You gave me tea instead. How was that going to help my temper? And, could you tell me again how you, a total stranger, ended up alone with me, in my flat?”

“That’s because Hal processed your discharge papers in record time, thereby earning your gratitude. And, you had a grand old time keeping your temper with Jenny.” He held a hand up to forestall an argument. “Do you not recall what happened when Hal left us alone?”

Despite her discomfort, Claire was having fun flirting with Jamie. And she admitted he was right about tea being the better choice. Teacup in hand, he was adorable waiting patiently beside her bed, the bedside lamp casting shadows on his face.

“Who could forget? He said to would ease his mind if I had someone with me tonight. It would have been churlish to refuse after all his help. Hal sure knows how to throw his weight around,” she grumbled. “Well, he did assure me you were harmless as long as I fed you regularly.”

“I am not a Mogwai. You can feed me after midnight,” he replied with dignity. “I swear I won’t turn into a gremlin.”

“And yet another reference from a film meant for kids.”

“Which you seem to be familiar with as well, Sassenach,” he added soothingly. “Admit it, Claire, we seem to have the same taste in childish movies.”

“I will do no such thing,” she said primly. “I admit we were born in the same decade, most likely within a year of each other.”

He chuckled. “All right, I give in. We’re different. Do you want me to leave you now?” he asked softly.

“I am a bit tired,” she admitted. “Do you remember the cupboard I pointed out to you? That’s where the bed linens are.”

“I’m sure I can find myself around your flat, mo cridhe. Is your cold pack still okay?” At her nod, he added, “Good night then.” And with that, he left her alone with her thoughts.

Claire snuggled into her bed, recalling how safe she’d felt when he carried her into the flat, setting up warning signals in her head.

_You can’t fall in too deep with him, Beauchamp. You’re not an impulsive teenager so don’t start anything you can’t or won’t finish. You're leaving in six months for Boston, training complete. It’s insta-lust, that’s what this is. There’s no such thing as instant-love._

_Liar._

She punched her pillow. Having found an outlet for her frustrations, she hit it one more time, then shifted position, preparing herself for a sleepless night.

 

* * *

 

After tucking Claire in, Jamie left, looking for the items he needed to make up his bed—Claire’s surprisingly comfortable couch, with a revolting cover of pink and red flowers. Seeing it, Jamie finally accepted she had two flaws. Shitty taste in furniture was the first.

The second was that she liked Hal, enough at least to listen to him. Jamie stopped himself there, trying to slow his speeding heart. Claire wasn’t interested in Hal, not in that way. Jamie needed to warn Hal off early in case he harbored an attraction to Claire.

Jamie stood, too keyed up to sleep immediately and wandered over to Claire’s bookshelf while punching Jenny’s phone number. As he waited for Jenny to answer, he scanned the titles of Claire’s books. She had quite a collection with medical tomes scattered here and there.

So what did it tell him about her? She had eclectic tastes. Poetry both modern and the classics. History, art, even a military book or two. He wasn’t sure if they were all hers but, if they were, they would have debates down the road—if she let him. And she would. Jamie would do everything he could so she would eventually trust him with her thoughts. All of them.

Hmm, Jenny worried him. She didn’t even protest when Hal escorted her out the door to bring her home. Jamie didn’t think Jenny would kill Hal, but he wanted to be sure on the off-chance Hal managed to irritate her enough.

Jamie was about to cancel the call when Hal answered.

“What the hell are you doing with Jenny’s phone?” he blurted out.

Silence greeted him then, “She invited me in for a cuppa, you ass. It’s what normal fucking people do. And if you bothered looking outside before calling, you’d know it’s brass monkeys outside,” Hal snarled.

Jamie switched the phone to his left ear. ‘It’s a little hail, par for course for December,” he replied impatiently. “What’s up with you? I'm checking on Jenny because she immediately agreed to bum a ride from you. It wasn’t like her.”

Awkward silence met his explanation. “I apologize for my extreme reaction, but you should give your sister credit for being sensitive about your feelings. She said she didn’t want to be _de trop_. Was her concern misplaced?”

Jamie shifted his balance from one leg to the other, feeling a strong compulsion to apologize.

_To Hal? You must be even more knackered than you thought, Jamie lad._

“No, it wasn’t,” he conceded.

“Well, don’t you want to talk to her?” Hal’s voice still had a distinctly unfriendly tone to it. “Jenny’s in her bedroom. Let me go get her,” Hal offered.

For some reason, his Bluetooth notification went off. Removing his phone from his ear, he thumbed the screen absent-mindedly, returning to Hal only to hear Jenny’s voice in the background. “No, it’s all good,” Jamie assured him, “I wanted to know if she’s okay and now I do. Could you tell her I’ll bring Claire to the atelier tomorrow around ten?”

“Sure, and I hope Claire’s fine. You were acting pretty territorial around her earlier, you know? It was worth yanking your chain to confirm it.” Hal said in his normal voice.

Jamie laughed. “I was a tad angry when I thought you were attracted to Claire. I never thought we’d quarrel over a woman.”

“Uh no,” Hal said sounding serious. “She’s not my type. Jenny said she’ll pour a dram then I’d better get cracking. Weather’s turning foul.”

“It’s Edinburgh—what do you expect? Goodnight. Thanks again for everything.”

Jamie returned to the sofa and, lifting the pillow to his nose, realized it smelled like the shampoo Claire used. Returning it to the couch, he prepared himself for bed. He was sure he was in for a good night’s sleep now he knew she was sleeping barely thirty feet away. Then, covering his eyes with an arm, Jamie relived his first glimpse of Claire and how her touch had affected him.

 


	9. All About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire get to know each other better.

hotrn: gud am sweetie! I looked in on U last nyt B4 U left but McPretty was in control of D sitch 😉

cbwetblanket: srsly 2 early 4U. C U 2morow. 😘

hotrn: U owe me. i kept McLoaded occupied as long as i cld  
 

Claire had woken to a text from an unusually perky Gillian at 6 AM. It was probably time for endorsement to the incoming shift of nurses, and Gillian loved to mess with them by pretending it was a 'benign' duty that awaited them.

Remembering her house guest, Claire hurried through her toilette, spraying herself sparingly with a light scent, Dolce and Gabbana The One Gold perfume. After reviewing her clothing choices, she pulled on a dark grey, loose-fitting cashmere tunic and paired it with black jeggings. The last thing she did was twist her hair upon her head, securing it with the deep purple chopsticks she'd gotten from Tokyo.

She peered in the mirror sighing about her resemblance to a one-eyed raccoon. Not that she'd ever seen one, of course. Claire wondered what Jamie would think of her seeing in daylight, sans make-up and with her bruised eye on full display.

Well, she couldn't very well do anything about it, could she? The situation was what it was. But as Claire had a surprisingly deep, dreamless sleep, she decided a celebratory breakfast was in order. And coffee. She didn't know what Jamie liked so she'd prepare a little of everything. She could always store whatever they couldn't eat and have it tomorrow.

Thinking of Jaimie and smiling like a lunatic wasn’t going to help with breakfast though. There wasn’t any time to dawdle, not if they were going to make it to Jenny’s shop by ten. Leaving her bathroom, Claire padded down the short hallway, pausing on her way to the kitchen to check in on him.

Jamie was sleeping on her couch, face open and defenseless, arms flung outward in abandon. She didn’t realize she was breathing shallowly until the sight of Jamie loosened something in her chest. It may have been because of Jamie’s promise of help, but Claire was cautiously optimistic that matters would work out well on Wednesday.

Claire’s pulse sped up, watching his gloriously mobile mouth relax, pink lips unfurling in a pout. Back in the bar, she had initially attributed Jamie’s attractiveness to his physical beauty and masculine magnetism. And there was evidence that she was right.

Last night was a revelation though as she experienced his compassion, vulnerability, and strength. He had no qualms about letting her see his emotions. Her ears felt hot remembering she'd allowed him to put his arm around her, hold her hand—little acts of intimacy she usually shied from. Did he think her a slut for allowing him to touch her? Or was he so used to women throwing themselves at him that he no longer noticed?

Time was ticking though, and no matter how enjoyable the experience was, she couldn’t stand there gawping at Jamie till he woke. As it was, she was mentally undressing him when she still had breakfast to prepare, an icepack to put on her eye. With one last regretful look at his sleeping form, Claire turned, willing herself to walk away.  
 

* * *

  
Jamie woke to the familiar, warm aroma of brewing coffee. He hadn't been able to sleep and had spent hours remembering how Claire had made him laugh at the most trivial things. And when doing that no longer satisfied him, he went over their conversation, picking out his favorite snippets like a magpie going over its hoard.

It didn't help when he recalled how she beautiful she had looked on the hospital bed, her long legs moving under the thin coverlet. He remembered how she had tried to make him feel less guilty, her rich contralto voice twisting his insides—Ah Dhia!

The sky had lightened considerably to a deep purple and lavender by the time he had finally nodded off to sleep.

Claire was less than twenty feet away, brewing him coffee. His eyes opened as he came fully awake and raced to the bathroom for his ablutions. Brushing his teeth with the spare toothbrush she had thoughtfully laid out, Jamie thought again of Claire needing his help. If this was the way for him to get through to her, then so be it. He'd take the chance, and damn the consequences of possibly breaking his heart.

He followed his nose, finding her in the kitchen off the entrance hallway. He stopped, admiring the way her clothes clung lovingly to her, strands of curly brown hair trailing down her long, graceful neck. Even her feet were pretty, one bare foot rubbing up against the opposite leg, eliciting a sigh from him.

Unfortunately, Claire heard him before he could observe her further and she turned, smiling at him. He winced at the bruise around her eye that had taken a life of its own—the dark blue of the previous evening now sported green and purple shadows as well.

“Good morning, Sassenach. You look quite fetching but,” he said, advancing on her, “You'd better put another cold pack on your eye.” He plucked the balloon whisk from her hand, adding, “Allow me to finish the cooking.”

Jamie caught a whiff of her scent, and his knees almost buckled at how good she smelled—voluptuously sweet and spicy but light.

“Good morning,” she answered, wrinkling her nose. “You're quite chipper even without caffeine,” she waved at the coffee percolator. “Now I'm wondering what you're really like at home.”  
   
He took stock of the ingredients on the counter as he finished whisking the eggs. “Scrambled eggs and ham do for you? And what’s that?” Jamie pointed to another bowl.

“It’s the batter for blueberry pancakes. Here, let me get that.” She drew nearer.

Jamie leaned in slightly, trying not to sniff at her hair openly.

“Oh, and the muesli with yogurt’s done, it’s already on the table.” She gestured toward the table with a mixing spoon. “Coffee?”

“That would be great.” Jamie took a deep appreciative breath, watching her covertly as she moved around him.

“Got it,” she answered as she poured him a mug of coffee. She studied him, speculation clear in her honey-colored eyes. “How do you take your joe?”  
    
He couldn't keep himself from chuckling. “I didn’t think you were going to subject me to the real-men-coffee-test, mo cridhe,” he teased.  
   
“Real men drink their coffee black and conform to traditional concepts of manliness?” She smiled at him, setting the mug down.  
   
“No, I like flavor. Life's too short for you to judge my masculinity by the way I take my coffee,” he said while heating the pan. “I like coffee with a bit of chilled milk, without sugar.”  
   
They worked together silently for a few more minutes with Claire setting out the table and Jamie finishing the pancakes. Seeing he had their meal in hand, she excused herself to fashion a sling for her cold pack.

As he sat at her kitchen table, music filtered in from a hidden speaker. Jamie was surprised as banjo music played and a woman’s warm, Southern voice began singing.

“I didn't peg you for a country music fan,” he commented as she reappeared and sat across him.  
   
“What? You don't like Jana Kramer or the genre?” she asked, spooning muesli in a bowl.  
   
Jamie felt his cheeks warm. “I meant I thought doctors liked jazz, classical music and all that.”

“I like them, too. As well as standards, punk, light rock, R&B, pop from the U.S., Asia and Europe.” She stood and reached for the coffee pot.

At a nod from him, she topped up his mug. “My only requirement is that the song does sound like music, not a discordant jangling of instruments. And you?” she asked.  
   
“Pop, unashamedly pop,” he answered on a grin.  
   
“Nothing wrong with that either,” she pointed out. “I have no bias against it.”  
   
His stomach growled, and he remembered he hadn’t eaten dinner.

“Dig in,” she invited. “Do you want bananas with your muesli?”

He watched her surreptitiously as she ate her breakfast, reaching for anything to add to her plate. His hands tingled, remembering how good her hand had felt in his. He badly wanted to reach out and reclaim it. He shook his head to clear it and settled down to eat.

“These are delicious pancakes,” he said moment after, "And the coffee's excellent.”

She shrugged. “Thanks for the compliment. I like to cook but don't have time for it. Sometimes, I prepare something and bring it to the hospital the following day.”

He made a mental note to get her schedule when they returned from Oxford. There was no sense scaring her off by asking for it this early in their relationship. “That's generous of you. I can do a little plain cooking but nothing up to cordon bleu standard.”

“You know, I didn't quite catch all your names last night. How many do you have?”  
   
“Four. Mam was feeling generous after I was born. James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser,” he bowed his head. "A mouthful, I agree. MacKenzie is Mam's maiden name.”  
   
“Oh how nice! I can see why your mum decided to saddle you with it,” she teased.  
   
“What about you?” he asked. “Do you have a middle name?”  
   
“Elizabeth.”  
   
Warmth filled him as he repeated, “Claire Elizabeth.” He glanced at her hands, wondering how she’d feel if he just leaned over and grabbed them. “I like it.”

“You can't call me Liz, Beth or variations on those nicknames.” She leaned forward with her mug, eyeing him with interest. "So you already know I'm a doctor. But what is it you do? Jenny said something last night about not knowing who you are.”

“I'm a civil engineer," he answered, slightly uncomfortable talking about himself. “Hal and I own a firm. One of our projects is that new bridge that crosses the Leith about two miles from here.”

“Oh, that one. I don't know much about bridges, but it was in the papers the other day. It's certainly beautiful,” she complimented him. "Is beautiful a word that can even be used to describe a bridge?”

“It's a cable-stayed bridge. And yes, there is beauty in symmetry, Sassenach. And strength. There are also variations of grey with or without a tinge of another color.”

“You must have driven yourself so hard to have been awarded a huge contract like that. Determined, much?”

He smiled at her slowly, thinking she couldn’t possibly know how alike they were. “I guess we’re both single-minded people, Claire. But I’ve learned to loosen up and prioritize the important things in my life.” Jamie stood, picking up his plate.

“What, are you done?” she asked.

“Yes, I am,” he answered. “Allow me to get the plates.”

"Leave them—we can do the dishes later. Come on. Celebrate with me, please?” She fluttered her lashes at him. “It's the first vacation I've had since I graduated from pre-med.”  
   
He was taken aback at her disclosure. “That long? Why what happened?”

“You can say, I was motivated to study. I finished high school and pre-med in three years each, graduating with a bachelor's degree when I was nineteen.”  
   
He marveled at an education system that allowed children to take off one year from their secondary education and said as much.  
   
“My classmates bullied me when I was younger, from elementary until I was a sophomore in high school. They didn’t hurt me physically,” she rushed to assure him, seeing his frown, “But I was too different with my English accent which I never quite lost, and I lived with only my uncle.” She shrugged.  
   
“What happened when you were in high school that they stopped?” he gritted out, feeling hot around his ears.  
   
“My body filled out, and I experienced a growth spurt.” She grinned. “However, my experience was enough incentive for me to get out early,” she continued. “Uncle Lamb was a professor of Archaeology at Harvard, so I had to perform well as an undergraduate. Then in med school, I didn't want to be left behind by all my older classmates." She winked at him. "By that time, competing had become a way to cope with a heavy academic load.”

Jamie consciously unclenched his fist and breathed deeply. He wanted to demand to review her high school yearbook and have her point out the bullies. He'd make sure to pay each of them a visit when he attended the international convention in New York the following year. 

“And did you, er do well that is?” he asked when he found his voice.

“I graduated magna cum laude from Harvard then cum laude from med school,” she said, blushing when he made approving noises.

“Good! You showed them, mo cridhe. Do you have other hobbies in addition to cooking?” Jamie asked, leaning forward. “Are you perhaps a black belt in taekwondo?”

She drew circles with her forefinger on the table, avoiding his eyes. “Don’t laugh.”

He hastily froze his face, killing the smile that wanted to come out at her patent discomfort. “I promise I won’t,” he said solemnly. “No matter what.”

Claire cleared her throat. “I like ballroom dancing. I know,” she hurried on, “it’s pretty lame,” she said self-deprecatingly.

Something lodged in his throat preventing Jaimie from answering right away. Bullied by classmates, betrayed in the worst way by Frank, Claire had every reason to be wary of people. Instead, she looked past all her bad experiences, summoning enough courage to trust him with one of her secrets.

“Look at me, Claire,” he urged after a few moments. He waited until she looked at him before saying tenderly, “I’m glad you had another interest, not just cooking. I was going to say ballroom dancing is unusual. And, there’s nothing remotely funny about it.”

“I try to attend sessions as often as I can, but I don’t have a lot of time.” She pushed her plate to one side. “There are several places in Edinburgh offering lessons, but I haven’t gone so far. No one I know has agreed to dance with me. You Scots are a pretty dull people,” she teased.

“You can go with me, Sassenach,” he said, enjoying her surprise.

She flopped back in her chair, surprised into giggling. “You?” she sputtered.

“And why not? Dancing isn't manly enough for me?” he asked, pretending to be insulted.

“Are you trying to feed your ego at my expense, buddy? Look at you!” She could barely get the words out through her chuckles. When her giggles subsided, she added, “Jamie, there's no need to babysit me further. You've already agreed to be my date for a wedding. And you slept here last night in case I needed help around the flat,” she reminded him.

Ignoring her comment about babysitting, Jamie leaned back in his chair. “I'm not saying this to make you feel better, okay? I was shanghaied into it when I was sixteen. Mam loves to dance, but Da has two left feet, so he designated me Mam's dance partner.”

At her disbelieving stare, he continued, “I was a member of a fencing team. Ballroom dancing helped develop agility and coordination. And, I'll let you know I was top of my division at my sport,” he huffed out.

“Hm, you're lucky to have a parent to spend time with,” she said with a faraway look in her eyes. Looking back at him she smiled again. “Your mum must have been the most envied woman on the dance floor.”

Was it hot? He didn't think so except he couldn't understand the tightness in his chest. He covered her hand with his, patting it to make him feel better.

“Did ye show them your third face, mo graidh?” he asked tenderly.

She looked at him blankly at first. "What are you talking about?”

“Your classmates. The bullies you mentioned earlier.”

When he would have explained, she said solemnly, “The correct quote is from the novel Shogūn written by James Clavell.” She intoned, “A man has a false heart in his mouth for the world to see, another in his breast to show to his special friends and his family, and the real one, the true one, the secret one, which is never known to anyone except to himself alone, hidden only God knows where.'”

Jamie couldn't help himself as he clapped, bowing from his chair. “You're like a walking encyclopedia,” he said admiringly.

“If I am, then so are you. You've caught all of my references,” Claire pointed out.

It had begun raining, he saw through the window. The kitchen was warm, redolent of the breakfast they'd just shared. They drank their coffee in companionable silence, talking desultorily about life in Edinburgh.

"Jamie, I need to know something," she said lazily.

He was instantly on his guard. "Anything within reason, mo graidhe."

"What are all those things you've been calling me? Cry? Grey? Dweeny? I trust none of those are rude. However, you're going to have to explain them to me very soon," she grumbled. "I hate being left out of a joke."

"They're not bad words," he answered, chuckling at her expression. "Later, when I'm out of your reach."

Jamie finished his coffee and stood, intending to begin on the dishes. Claire shifted on her chair, but he stopped her.

“Please, allow me. Sit a bit longer and finish your coffee.”

She looked at him sheepishly and sat back in her chair. “Thank you. I want to listen to this song first. It's one of my favorites.”

Jamie collected the dishes as quietly as he could, watching her covertly as she listened, her face open and dreaming, feet tapping softly on the floor.

'The great big city's a wondrous toy  
Just made for a girl and boy.  
We'll turn Manhattan  
Into an isle of joy.'

He forgot what was he was going to say, a hard knot forming in his stomach, as the thought of the possible reason for Claire’s preoccupation.

_She's probably thinking of some guy she dated. It doesn't matter if she's had dozens of boyfriends. It's a non-issue as long as you're her last, Jamie boy._

Jamie's ring tone went off. He automatically patted his jeans' pockets then remembered he had left it on the coffee table. Excusing himself, he hurried to the lounge and picked it up. It was an unknown caller, but he answered it anyway, accidentally pressing the hands-free option.

“Hello?”

He jumped, startled at the clarity and volume of the voice echoing around the suddenly quiet flat.

“Jamie, love, good morning!" a girlish voice greeted him. "Why didn't you come home last night?”

“Geneva?” he asked disbelievingly. 

_Shit, Claire's got Bluetooth speakers! How the hell did my phone connect with her system automatically? I'm going to have to talk to her about cybersecurity. Would she allow me to change her settings after this?_

He heard a crash from the kitchen. “Sweetheart, what's that?” Geneva asked. “I heard from Hal that you're in a spot of trouble. Some bimbo trying to swindle you?”

A second noise behind him had Jamie whirling around in time to see Claire, head bent, hurrying toward her bedroom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'll be back mid-June ☺


	10. A Tisket A Tasket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire quarrel.

“How did you even fucking know when to call?” Jamie hissed at the phone before cutting off Geneva mid-word. Dropping his phone on the couch, Jamie rushed to Claire’s room, cursing himself roundly for accidentally linking to Claire’s Bluetooth speaker system.

“Claire?” he asked as he knocked on her door. “I’d like to explain—” 

She came out red-faced and brushed past him.

“I switched off the speakers to give you privacy, so you didn’t have to cut your call short,” she said woodenly. She’d reached the kitchen and, turning her back on him, began rinsing the plates and cups methodically.

He reached out a hand and touched her sleeve, “Claire, that was Hal’s cousin, and she wanted—”

Claire whirled to face him, eyes blazing. “First, your sister and now your girlfriend,” she hissed. “Why does everyone think I’m out to fleece you? And as for Hal, I thought he liked me well enough not to backstab me.”

Briefly glimpsing hurt, he reached out to touch her again, but she jerked away, holding herself stiffly. He understood the hurt, but he had to keep trying to reach her.

“Geneva likes stirring things up. She’s got a warped sense of humor and was out of line just now,” he said quietly. “I’m going to talk to Hal later and sort things out with him.”

Leaning against the sink, Claire crossed her arms, pink beginning to suffuse her face. “You only promised to be my plus-one at a wedding. Nothing more. And, I’m not about to start anything here. I’ll be returning to Boston in six months.”

“Claire, please. I don’t know what she meant—”

“Oh, please spare me the ‘we’re only friends’ line. I speak English, so I know what love, darling means,” Claire hissed. “I also know the difference between ‘come home’ and ‘go home.’ It doesn’t matter.”

Jamie rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel himself getting hot under his collar, and he couldn’t help raising his voice, “I never said you didn’t speak English! And if it doesn’t matter, why are you angry? That’s not a logical thing to say.”

Clare paled and compressed her lips before turning her back on him.

“You’re right, of course,” she replied stiffly. “I heard what you said, and I’m pretty sure my neighbors two doors down either way heard you, too. No worries, I’m fine with it. But you should square things out with your girlfriend right away instead of Hal. Nobody likes a cheater.” she said evenly, her back ramrod straight.

Jamie’s heart sank. Claire was in pain and what she heard had most likely triggered memories of Frank. He understood her reaction at an intellectual level. But that didn’t mean her distrust didn’t hurt him.

They had just met so he could understand her distrust. What he couldn’t wrap his head around was that she didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt and had immediately jumped to the conclusion that Geneva was his girlfriend. He couldn’t believe Claire could turn so cold after what they had shared during breakfast.

Could she be jealous, though? His heart beating faster, Jamie’s next step brought him to her side, ready for a second attempt when her phone dinged with a notification.

Taking out her phone, she read whatever was on the screen. It wasn’t good news, that much Jamie could tell—spots of red appeared on her cheeks and colored her eyebrows.

“Excuse me, I’ve got to make a call in my room,” Claire said, “If you could just pile the bedclothes you used, I’ll see to them and these dishes later.”

Then she walked away, and the floor fell out from under him.

 

* * *

 

And, she’d blown it, losing her temper like that.

But they were on their way to friendship, at the very least. Hell, she believed Hal thought better of her from the way he ensured her early release from the hospital. Claire had made a costly mistake by assuming the best of Jamie, but only her pride was injured. She would have suffered much worse if she’d invested feelings in him.

_It’s a wonder your nose hasn’t lengthened at least an inch, Beauchamp. Not invested, huh? You have no proof Geneva’s his girlfriend! For all you know, there might be another explanation for the phone call. Jamie isn’t Frank, so stop feeling sorry for yourself and march out back there and have it out with him._

Recoiling at the prospect of another confrontation, Claire sat on her bed instead, staring at her phone. She needed to be sharp when making this next call to Dr. Martin, her department chairman.

But she couldn’t concentrate, recalling Jamie’s crestfallen face. Could she have been mistaken in believing Geneva was his girlfriend?

“Good morning, Dr. Martin, Claire Beauchamp here. You texted a question about my leave of absence earlier.”

Five minutes later, her mind on fire with indignation, Claire was dressing in warmer, albeit still casual clothes. She hesitated before her mirror, wondering if she had time to cover her bruise with makeup.

“Oh, bother. Let Dr. Martin see I’ve begun my break,” she muttered. “Hope he feels guilty about it.”

Jamie, seated on the couch, looked up from his phone when she finally emerged from her bedroom. Claire hardened her heart against the sight of him, his hair coppery from the weak sunlight streaming through a nearby window. The faint aroma of coffee lingered in the air, reminding her of the intimacy they shared during their meal.

Right. Jamie was another complication she didn’t need.

“I put everything away and washed the dishes,” he said quietly. “Seeing your reaction to the text you received, I thought it best to be prepared to move out of here fast.”

Her heart softening at his thoughtfulness, she answered him in her usual tone, “You’re right. I had to call my department chair, Dr. Martin. He wants to see me before two this afternoon.”

“But you told me you’d file for leave and it was approved,” he said while putting on his jacket.

“Remember Dr. Christie from last night? Tom filed a report. So now, Dr. Martin is threatening to rescind my leave because I filed it for a frivolous reason.” Claire pushed a stray curl behind her ears, picking up her bag on the way to the front door.

“Wait, Claire,” Jamie huffed as he strode toward her. “Have you forgotten we have to be at Jenny’s by ten?”

“Of course, I didn’t.” She took off her flip-flops and slipped on shoes.

“Then, can we talk about Geneva, please?”

Claire looked back at him sharply, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Look, it’s true we were lovers and that she lived with me. But that was—”

Claire held up a hand, preventing him from saying more that would drive daggers in her heart. She wanted to kick him, throw something at him, anything to relieve her misery.

“As fascinating as I find your history with her to be,” she said evenly as soon as she could speak, “I don’t want to discuss it now. If Dr. Martin changes his mind, then I won’t be attending the wedding. The issue of you replacing my gown will become moot if my plans change.”

Jamie stilled, his eyes focused on her. It was as though he knew what she was thinking. Though Claire was unnerved that he could read her so well, she refused to back down.

As coolly as possible, she said, “I’ll talk to Dr. Martin and convince him to let me go. And he will,” she smiled thinly. “He owes me. I am, however, freeing you from your obligation. You don’t have to come with me to Frank’s wedding anymore.”

 

* * *

 

Jamie reached over her and opened the door to the atelier. A bell rang somewhere inside the building while a slight tremor ran through Claire as his arm brushed her shoulder.

“I told you, I could have gone here on my own,” she said in an aggrieved tone.

“And I said I’ll accompany ye,” he answered bluntly. “Did ye think I’d allow ye to go alone just because ye uninvited me to the wedding?”

“I don’t know what to think since I don’t know you at all.”

The door opened, revealing Jenny in a red and black sleek dress. How Jenny managed to look so put together in the morning, Claire immediately wanted to know.

Jenny drew back, eyebrows raised as she openly surveyed Jamie and Claire’s faces, her expression changing rapidly from friendliness to confusion. Then her face cleared, a non-committal smile on her lips.

“Come in, come in. Mind the step, Claire,” Jenny greeted her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

With a wan smile at Jenny, Claire entered the building quickly, leaving her and Jamie to follow suit. They were quiet, she realized, most likely indulging in another wordless sibling conversation.

Claire stopped a few feet into Jenny’s shop. The interior was painted dove grey and white, with accents of mint green, purple, and orange. Potted palms dotted the open spaces while strategically placed mirrors visually enlarged the store area. It was airy, modern, and sophisticated. Clothes and other merchandise displayed enticingly, jazz music pouring through hidden speakers.

As the store was open, two women were going through one rack, eyeing Jamie with interest, though he ignored their hair flipping and blatant stares.

Turning to Claire, Jenny threw her arms out, saying, “Welcome to L’Atelier de Murray, Claire. This ground floor is for displays,” adding as Claire walked around, “We’ll be going up to the first floor where my workshop is. The second floor is a living area for my staff and me if we have to rush a big order. My assistant Chris is waiting for us upstairs.”

“Jenny, may I have five minutes to go through the racks? Your store’s amazing!” Claire complimented her.

A small woman, came up behind the counter on the far side, dressed fashionably in a navy suit with silver accessories setting off her blonde good looks.

“Jamie!” she cried, trying to embrace him, but Jamie stopped her by gripping her forearms, keeping her at bay.

“Cynthia, it’s been a long time,” he said as he stepped aside and released his hold on her.

“You haven’t called, not even for a nightcap,” Cynthia answered, pouting up at him.

Claire rolled her eyes, ignoring the sharp pang in the region of her heart. What was it with Jamie? He might as well hang a sign around his neck, with an arrow pointing downward proclaiming him available.

“Claire, this is Cynthia Niall, my Store Supervisor. Cynthia, this is Dr. Beauchamp, a friend of Jamie’s,” Jenny said, emphasizing the word friend.

Cynthia was sizing up Claire in a sulky, calculating manner that didn’t bode well for future interactions.

“Oh, hello,” Cynthia greeted in an off-hand manner. Then turning to Jamie, she said, “And you owe me breakfast after that night.”

Blushing beet-red, Jamie said, “I’ll treat you out to tea one of these days.” At Cynthia’s smug look, he turned to Jenny, adding, “You’d better come, Jenny and you as well, Claire.”

Claire stole a look at Cynthia, refraining from saying anything that would betray her renewed anger at Jamie.

“Jenny, I’m going to make a phone call. May I use your sitting room?” Jamie asked. 

At Jenny’s permission, he left, taking the stairs two steps at a time.

Claire watched him leave, blowing out a shaky breath, glad to be out of his company. She could see Cynthia from the corner of her eye, licking her lips as she watched Jamie as well.

Jenny turned to Claire, shaking her head fondly as she grinned at her. “He’s such a child at times, climbing the stairs that way.”

The bell over the door jangled.

“And you, Cynthia? I see at least one customer who’s now ready to pay,” Jenny reminded her.

Pivoting on her heel, Cynthia nodded at her employer, leaving without a word to attend to the customers entering the store.

Catching Claire watching Cynthia, Jenny added casually, “All the men in our family are handsome, Claire, so women do notice them. But it doesn’t matter.” She looked at Claire with piercing eyes. “Once a Fraser man has committed himself to one woman, no one else exists for him.”

Claire’s stomach lurched. “Oh, I don’t know, Jenny.” Her hands trembled slightly, and she clasped them together, keeping them still.

“Oh.” Jenny reached out to the nearest rack, straightening the clothes hanging on it, but said nothing more.

Jenny would have been a wonderful friend if circumstances were different. But—

“Jenny, I’m going, to be honest with you. There’s a chance I may not need your or Jamie’s help.” Claire squared her shoulders, meeting Jenny’s eyes.

Jenny’s eyebrows, which raised to an alarming level, lowered as her forehead furrowed. “Why so?”

“I might not be able to take a leave,” she confided, as she explained what happened earlier.

“Well if you don’t have to go, then you’ll at least have a gown, designed and handsewn by me, to boot.” Jenny smiled at Claire confidently. “I just returned from a one-month stay in Singapore, collaborating with other people for a show next year. You can tell your friends back in Boston, that I dressed you up,” she teased her.

At Claire’s head shake, Jenny placed a hand on Claire’s back, urging her forward. “Whatever happens, trust me, you’ll like what I laid out for you. The gowns I want you to try are part of a new collection I was creating for Singapore Fashion Week.” 

Claire had to try one more time. “But Jenny, it’s too—”

Paying no attention to Claire’s words, Jenny continued to urge her up the stair and cut in, “You’ll have to choose from the gloves and shoes I have. And, we’ll advise you on the hairstyle and makeup you’ll be needing to cover up that bruise.”

Jenny was a mini-bulldozer, Claire reflected. Was it a Fraser trait, or was it just Jenny?

“And you’re in luck!” Jenny continued. “I have stage makeup we can experiment on.”

 

* * *

 

Jenny’s voice faded as Jamie bounded up the stairs. 

_Fool! You should have realized Cynthia would be here. You should never have dipped into that poisoned well. But Claire already believes the worst of you already. She may not listen now._

A part of Jamie rebelled against Claire’s judgment. It was unfair, baseless, and illogical and—she was hurting. God, she was probably having flashbacks about Frank, and God knew who else had let her down.

But, Claire had initially thought Jamie was trustworthy. And he was. He just needed time to prove it to her again and, develop another strategy on how to win her over. 

With his mind made up, Jamie took out a phone and dialed Hal’s number. 

“Hal, what the fuck did ye do?”

“Hold on, Jamie. I just got back home thirty minutes ago.”

Feeling mild guilt, Jamie pushed on nevertheless. “I don’t care where you’ve been. Geneva called this morning, asking if I needed legal help. Now, what did ye tell her?”

“Nothing! Geneva called asking to consider a possible project. I said I’d have a meeting arranged with you in a fortnight as you won’t be available next week.” 

“So, are you telling me she came up with a story like that on her own?” 

Jamie squinted at the modern painting above Jenny’s mantel. Hmm, it appeared to be two figures in profile that looked familiar. He took a step closer to view it— 

“No, because I told her you’re attending a wedding next week and she knows you abhor the sentimentality of events like those,” Hal said.

Jamie turned back to the conversation. 

“What I’m saying is, Geneva knows you. She probably couldn’t understand why you’d attend one when you never did when you were together.” Jamie winced at the accuracy of the statement. 

“So she went on a fishing expedition, and she was successful. First, she now knows you’ve met someone. Second, you may need some legal help. I happened to know because she just texted me that you have a secret, and she was on its trail.” 

Jamie felt the hairs on his nape raise. “That’s some scary shit in your family, Hal, if that’s how she thinks.”  

“All you had to do was say no. Or even ‘I have nothing to say to you.’ You didn’t have to feed the beast.” 

“I asked, ‘how did you know when to call?’ And I said that after she ran off  her mouth.” Jamie stopped by a Chinese vase on a side table. It was ugly by his standards. He wondered if Jenny would miss the piece if he smashed it. 

“She made a lot of assumptions and put together a working hypothesis,” Hal spoked calmly. “That’s how Geneva thinks.” 

“Well, the shittiest thing happened, ye know. Now Claire’s mad at me and won’t listen to any explanation.” Jamie could feel his temperature rising as he walked around Jenny’s sitting room. 

“Make her see reason. Surely you’ve got enough charm to whittle down her defenses,” Hal countered. 

“She’s also hurt, you moron.” Looking in a mirror, Jamie saw his left eye twitching and tried to calm down.  _Don’t lose your temper. There’s another way to let off steam_.

“I want one round tomorrow at Holyrood Boxing Gym. I feel the need to pummel you for even talking about me to your cousin.”  

“Jamie, I hope you don’t mean that.” Hal’s voice had lost its calm as well, rising in pitch to meet his own. 

“Och, but I do,” he answered silkily. “I want to do more than just hit you. I verra badly want to break one of your legs.” 

“Tomorrow,” Hal said in a strangled voice. “A race around Holyrood Park then maybe up to Arthur’s seat. If you still want a piece of me, we’ll have two rounds at the gym.” Hal cleared his throat and said carefully, “I’m really sorry, Jamie. You’re right. I should never have said anything to Geneva.” 

“Done,” Jamie answered, but his anger had leached away, leaving him weak. He sank to the nearest armchair. “Stay away from Claire and me Hal. I mean it this time.” Jamie thumbed the phone then flung it at the couch that lay kitty-corner to his chair.  

“Damn it all to hell,” he growled then stood, intent on making tea.

 

* * *

 

“I told Hal, you’d be fine. For some reason, he was worried about you, but I knew Claire would be good for you.” She finished pouring him coffee, asking, “So how’d your night go?” 

Jenny had left Claire with Chris to take measurements and try on makeup. Following Jamie upstairs, Jenny ordered him to sit, and taking away the tin of tea leaves from him, brewed coffee instead.  

Jamie, plastered on a smile and buried his nose in his mug. “This morning started well. We had breakfast together in her flat.”  

“You look peaked,” she observed. “Didn’t get much sleep, huh? You know, you were quite adamant about keeping her company last night.” 

He kept silent, hoping she’d get his message. Nothing to see here. Move along.    

“What? A body would think you didn’t want to talk to me,” she teased him. 

Jamie sighed, shrugging to ease his shoulders. “I see you won’t stop till you’ve wormed everything from me. But will you let me finish at least the first part?”  

At her nod, he stood, unable to contain his need to move and take some pressure off him. “So here goes. I got kicked to the curb today.” 

Jenny made a move to stand, but he waved her back to her seat. 

“Geneva called, but the phone connected to Claire’s Bluetooth speakers.” He held up a hand to forestall her comments. “You know Geneva doesn’t have filters, and she put her spin on something Hal let slip.”  

“Well, Hal shouldn’t have even said anything to Geneva in the first place!” she said hotly then grimaced. “Sorry, force of habit. I want so much to strangle him right now. But please, continue.”  

Running his fingers through his curls, Jamie confessed “I’ve talked to Hal, and he admitted to saying that I wouldn’t be available next week. Geneva decided to investigate what he meant on her own. But I’ll have it out with him tomorrow, oh, believe me, I will.” He narrowed his eyes at his sister, daring her to comment at his expense. 

When it appeared Jenny was listening, Jamie sat back down. Drumming his fingers on the table, he said, “So now Claire believes I have a girlfriend and broke off our date on Wednesday.” He slumped forward. 

“Why didn’t you explain?” Jenny asked sensibly.

“I tried!” Jamie’s throat was dry. “She didn’t want to listen on the way here, saying if she’d known I had a girlfriend, she would never have invited me in, much less allowed me to sleep over.”  

Jenny reached out a hand to stroke his hand gently.  

“And then, she schooled me on the difference between ‘come home’ and ‘go home.’ I was that furious at first,” he grumbled.

He caught a muffled laugh. 

“It’s no’ a laughing matter ye ken!” he hissed at her. He tried to stop, knowing he was acting like a five-year-old, but his filters were no longer in place after his conversation with Hal.

“I’m sorry, I truly am,” Jenny answered penitently. “But Claire could change her mind. Do you want me to talk to her and clear things up?” she volunteered. 

“No,” he snapped. Then gentling his tone, he said, “I don’t need your help on this. I have my pride. Besides, Claire probably thinks I’m an unprincipled lecher,” he added bitterly.  

“Jamie, please listen.” Jenny stood and rounding the table, hugged him from behind. “When we Frasers fall, we do it wholeheartedly, unconditionally.”  

Returning to her chair, she added, “There’s no holding back for us so I can empathize with your feelings. Now, this might cheer you up.” She smiled at him. “From everything you said and her reaction to Cynthia downstairs, I would say Claire’s the jealous type. You could work with that, right? I'm surprised you didn't catch on to that though.” She winked at him. “How could someone like you be so smart at work, be so dim about people?”  

“Will you stop poking fun at me?” he growled at her. 

Shocked silence met him. 

After a few moments, Jenny found her voice. “But we would always laugh at your blunders before, remember? Even about Geneva, when you found her in bed with another woman.” 

“This time is different, Jenny. Claire’s different.” Jamie raked a hand through his hair and glared at her. 

“You have a point there. Hal told me, you were possessive about her. And, I’d never seen you so worried over a woman’s opinion before. Someone who, I may point out, you’d just met. So what about the wedding?” 

“It’s her ex-fiance’s. Randall mistreated her, and from what she said, the engagement didn’t end well. But Claire’s changed her mind about me going with her.” Jamie reached out for his mug again, curling both hands around it, allowing the residual warmth to warm his cold hands. 

“So, she changed her mind once. She can change it back again. But, I’ve never seen you back down like this. What are you going to do about it? 

“Claire can’t attend the wedding alone, Jenny. Not with a lot of people probably hostile or even actively angry at her. And definitely without back-up. I won’t let her.” He let out a groan. 

Reaching out, Jenny patted his arm, blue eyes so much like his own looked into his, open and warm with empathy. “Of course not,” she murmured sympathetically. “But she might not see it your way. And besides, I hope you’ve realized that you’ve left yourself vulnerable. She could hurt you quite easily.”

Jamie looked at her, allowing the misery eating at his insides to show on his face. 

Jenny sucked in her breath. 

His stomach lurched as Jamie allowed himself to finally admit what he’d felt since he touched Claire last night. “It’s too late. I’ve fallen in love with her, Jenny,” he admitted, blowing out a shaky breath. “And now, I’m well and truly fucked.” 

Jamie and Jenny sat together in silence. It was a disaster, and they knew it.

 


End file.
